Why are we friends with these people?
by Sarah1281
Summary: Mark and Roger's friends are odd. Very odd. So odd, in fact, that at times they're forced to wonder why they even hang out with them...Takes place during RENT.
1. Rent

Mark and Roger wonder: Why are we friends with these people?

Disclaimer: I do not own RENT. That honor belongs to the great Jonathan Larson.

Note: Regular type will be Roger's point of view and _italics will be Mark's._

Other Note: If they can have a reference to Thelma and Louise in Today 4 U, which is released in 1992 in 1989-1990 in the actual movie, then there may very well be some anachronisms in this. How? Mark and Roger are MAGIC…

Enjoy!

Chapter One: Rent

"_December 24__th__, 1989. 9 p.m., Eastern Standard Time." It's very important to be specific, in case I want to remember this later. Kind of like a diary, except not girly. Or misogynistic. "From here on in, I shoot without a script." How hard can it be? After all, all the world's a stage, or something like that._

_But the, I've always wondered: Where does the audience sit?_

"_See if anything comes of it…instead of my old shit." Yes, it's almost a brand new year, just begging to be filled with brand new shit! I'm so excited!_

_I was thinking of doing something about a Random French Peasant living under King Louis XIV who gets kidnapped by time-travelling aliens and taken to the distant future were she is horrified to discover how secular everything is and she turns the reasonably benevolent empire into a religious cult, but when I told Roger that, he could not stop laughing. For three hours straight. Honestly, I thought he was supposed to be all depressed and all, but apparently he's only emo when he can be bothered to remember._

_Yeah, so anyway, I'm sure this'll be just as good._

"_No, get out of here. Hey."_

_I swivel my camera over to see a homeless man trying to clear off some guy's window for some change. Maybe to go buy food, maybe drugs. Who knows?_

_Yeah, just as good._

"I said, get off the window," car-guy said, sounding rather annoyed.

_Or…not._

_Well, that's not a very good start, now is it? Of course, it'd probably help if I knew what I was supposed to be shooting. I mean, "real life" IS kind of vague, after all._

_Okay, again, not a great start, but maybe tomorrow will be better. I just need to figure out how to do this, and what better way to help me than by spontaneously breaking into song?_

_That's what Maureen and I always did whenever we had disagreements. And Roger and I. But then, they're both singers, so maybe they were just using me to work on their material? Nah, they wouldn't do that._

_I climb on my bike (very retro, thank you very much) and belt out, "How do you document real life when real life's getting more like fiction each day?" Yes, I once heard that the difference between reality and fiction is that fiction has to make sense._

_As I was singing, music randomly started accompanying me. I suppose this would freak most people out, but I'm used to it by now. Roger and I can both do it. We're not sure why, but we blame that green glowing stone thing that Benny gave us the last time he tried to get money from us._

"_Headlines, bread lines, blow my mind and now this deadline eviction or pay. Rent." I grab a poster announcing said eviction notice and go up to see my hermit of a roommate. God, I can't believe we're actually supposed to pay rent. There is nothing as annoying as rent. Granted, we probably should have been paying it for the past, oh, god knows how long we've been avoiding paying rent. But that's not the point! Rent dodging is like tax evasion: Finding creative ways to do it is almost like an art form._

_  
I suppose if this documentary thing doesn't work out I can always turn professional. _

I was sitting in the flat, staring at my guitar and willing it to do something. Suddenly, I could sense that somewhere, a song was being sung. And what's more, it was sung by no other than Mark!

Well, I suppose I've got nothing better to do while I'm waiting for my song to write itself, so I might as well join in and complain about it.

"How so you write a song when the chords sound wrong though they once sounded right and rare?" And maybe I should think about tuning my guitar, too. That could help. Man, and I thought being emo was supposed to HELP in artistic endeavors!

"When the notes are sour, where is the power-" And there goes the lights. Typical. I swear, I'm going to have to ask Benny what that green stone was, because things like this are NOT NORMAL. Or, so I think. I haven't actually left the house in six months, but Mark has, and he seems to think it's weird, too.

Then again, he also seems to think it's weird for me to have not left the house in six months, so what does he know?

"You once had to ignite the air?" I put my guitar down and go over to the fuse box.

"We're hungry and frozen," Mark chimes in.

"Some life that we've chosen," I finish, flipping the switch. Nothing happens. Strange. Where did we put that stone…

Mark comes in and shoves some paper in my face. "How we gonna pay?" he asks me.

"How we gonna pay?" I echo, confused.

"How we gonna pay?" he repeats, like he expects me to be able to answer this with no idea of what he's talking about. I mean, I'm good, but I'm not THAT good.

"How we gonna pay?" I say again, hoping he'll get the hint.

Apparently he does, because his next words are, "Last year's rent?"

Wait, what? "Last year's rent?" Why would we need to pay that? Unless…Oh god, I am SO not opening any mail for the next month or so. I'm having enough problems with Benny's last gift.

_I cannot believe him sometimes. I mean, I get that he has not left the flat for a bloody half a year, and has spent amount half of that on the same spot on the couch, but I'm sure I must have mentioned the rent issue at some point in time!_

_Hm, does being Emo make you selectively deaf? Must research this. I've never been Emo, because I asked Roger about it when Maureen dumped me, and he said that I'd have to lose the scarf. Nuh-uh. The scarf is a total babe magnet. I read it in Men's Vogue._

_The telephone rings. Roger and I just stare at it for a moment, then he gives me a look that clearly says, 'Hello, I'm in Emo mode right now and am thus automatically FAR too cool to deign to answer the lowly telephone. Besides, it could be that telemarketer again. The one with the restraining order from the last time you made me answer the telephone.'_

_Yes, I realize that that is an oddly meaningful look, but what can I say? When you're Emo and thus saying as little as humanly possible, you begin to put a lot into your looks. And spending hours in front of the mirror like Roger does (you would not BELIEVE how long it takes his hair to look like that…) certainly helps._

"_Hello?" I ask._

"_Hey, guess who's back in town."_

_Collins should really be more specific. It's Christmas Ever, hundreds of people are here to visit family, so how am I supposed to know who he's talking about?_

"_It's Collins, man," he says, like he thinks I don't recognize his voice. Please, it's been, what seven months? How could I forget? Well, that and he was playing the part of the ethnic Waldo in a film of mine before he left._

_It was great: Basically, it was the back story of __Where's Waldo__, that children's book character that you have to search for for no apparent reason. Okay, so Waldo starts off in Santa's workshop, __a l_à_Elf__, and one days he grows to be too big to be able to maneuver comfortably about the workshop. UNLIKE Elf, however, Waldo had no father in New York and thus had not choice but to stay at Santa's workshop. Eventually, though, he hit his head on the ceiling one too many times and picked up a pick-axe…_

_Santa tried to restrain him, but he quickly outgrew all of the elf-sized restraining systems. He had nothing better to do, so he figured he might as well go to New York anyway. Everything was fine there until this little girl made fun of his hat. Because, you know, it IS as __stupid__ hat. And so he picked up another pick-axe and became a mass murderer._

_That explains why people are always taking pictures of him and why people are always looking for him. Waldo is an expert killer who lives no witnesses. If someone trains a camera on him, he steps out into the open, smiles and waves at the camera, then fades back into the shadows. So the only way to save your life when he's near is to always travel with a camera._

_It's meant to be an inspirational film that encourages more people to become cameramen. It didn't really go anywhere, though, because Collins suddenly took MIT up on their 38__th__ job offer and left half-way through it. That was rather rude of him. Maybe I can start shooting again…No, wait, no script. Right. Ah well, I suppose I can always do it when I'm done with this. Assuming Collins hasn't died from AIDS by then, of course._

"_Throw down the key," Collins instructed. I wondered vaguely why, since we used to live together, he didn't have his own damn key, but obliged him anyway. "Cool."_

_Cool? What was cool? That he could order people to allow him entry into their apartments and they would? Hm…Strange. Maybe Collins played with Benny's stone?_

While Mark was busy dealing with I-can't-be-bothered-to-call-before-showing-up-despite-the-fact-that-perhaps-you-might-be-out-or-busy-or-getting-evicted-even-though-I'm-not-Emo Tom Collins (and for all he knew we could be out; I was still leaving the apartment when Mark's psycho serial killer elf story chased him off to MIT), I was busy lighting candles. Emo candles.

I briefly wondered why we even had candles, then decided that they were probably left over from before Benny-the-Backstabber ditched us for Muffy or whatever her name was. Benny was just the kind of guy who would have candles lying around, pretending to be all sensitive so he could lure unsuspecting jailbait into his lair. Man, though, it's been ages since Benny moved out. When was the last time we cleaned this place?

I noticed Mark was done on the phone and thus ready to resume my song-writing practice. "How do you start a fire when there's nothing to burn and you feel like something's stuck in your flue?" I mean, yeah, we were burning the candles and all, but those were Benny's and so automatically not NEARLY cool enough for me.

"How can you generate heat when you can't feel your feet and they're turning blue?" Mark sang and I helped out with the last part. I did wonder, though, how one could tell if one's feet were blue if one was indeed wearing shoes. If one wasn't, well then perhaps that's an explanation as to why they're feet appear to be suffocating.

We looked at each other briefly then went to go find things to make a really cool fire with. I went to the walls and tore down a bunch of posters of me back from my pre-emo bad-haircut days and Mark went over to get his screenplays, which we had previously been using as footstools.

"You light up a mean blaze," Mark began.

"With posters," I lit them on fire and tossed them in a trashcan.

"And screenplays," Mark did the same with his pile.

"How we gonna pay? How we gonna pay? How we gonna pay? Last year's rent?"

"How do you stay on your feet when on every street it's trick or treat and tonight it's trick?" Hey, isn't that Collins? Man, he wasn't gone long enough to forget how to get to our apartment, maybe something happened? Oh! I know! He tripped and hit his head after he saw the eviction posters everywhere and was distracted wondering HOW IN THE WORLD BENNY COULD BE SUCH A BACKSTABBING BACKSTABBER! And now he thinks it's Halloween! Yep, that explains everything.

"Welcome back to town. Oh, I should lie down. Everything's brown and, uh-oh, I feel sick!"

Everything's brown? Now he's having vision problems? Or, more likely in my opinion, he hit his head so hard that he forgot he was African American?

Mark looked worried. Then again, Mark worries about everything. That's why he'll never be a good Emo. Well, that and that scarf I think he's secretly in love with. "Where is he?"

"Getting dizzy," Collins responded. Uh, duh, Collins. 'Getting dizzy' is an action or state of being, not actually a place. Or, at least any place I've ever heard of, which means no where within hearing distance.

Mark and I shrug and decide that if our apparently amnesia ex-roommate is going to be so unhelpful then we might as well keep singing. "How we gonna pay?"

The posers who live around us and have far inferior hair and, I suppose, scarves all begin to join in. "How we gonna pay? How we gonna pay? Last year's rent?"

Hm, why weren't they paying rent? Were they all the landlord's ex-roomies, too? Or were they agreeing to be in his films in exchange for rent-avoiding advice? The world may never know.

"The music ignites the night with passionate fire," Mark told me.

"The narration crackles and pops with incendiary wit," I returned the compliment more to be polite than anything else. I thought I saw "Furbies of DOOM" on the front of one of them and am beginning to think he only shows me his best work. Which is, in itself, very sad.

"Zoom in as they burn the past to the ground," Mark began as we picked up the trashcan and went over to our balcony where we threw the flaming contents over the edge. Other people were doing the same thing. Posers.

"And feel the heat of the future's glow. How do you leave the past behind when it keeps finding ways to get to your heart? It reaches way down deep and tears you inside out 'til you're torn apart. Rent!" Mark and I continued.

Even though Benny is a traitorous traitor, I'll give him one thing: Mark and I were never able to coordinate our songs so well before he gave us that oddly green glowing rock.

Though how the tenants manage it is beyond me…Do they go through our flat when I'm asleep? I mean, I'm always here, so it can't be when we're out…And that would explain why I run out of styling gel so quickly. Maybe they played with our shiny rock while stealing my stuff. Ah well, it's not like we actually have to pay for any of it anyway, seeing as how the clerk at the local grocery store totally has a crush on me from my non-emo days and is glad to do her part to improve my hair.

Anyway, somehow the tenants know WAY too much about us, because they join Mark and I in singing, "How can you connect in an age where strangers, landlords, lovers, your own blood cells betray! What binds the fabric together when the raging, shifting winds of change keep ripping away!"

Ah, speaking of potentially dangerous rocks, it figures that its giver would choose now to wax nostalgic and come and visit. As he gets out of his car and tries his best not to look terrified and reach for the switchblade I'm sure he still has in his pocket, Benny sings, "Draw a line in the sand and then make a stand!"

Although drawing a line in the sand really doesn't seem very practical. I mean, people are always walking on sand, for one. And it's very likely to collapse in on itself. Not to mention the threat from the ocean…But logic is evidentially beneath our dear social-climbing arch-nemesis.

"Use your camera to spar," I suggest to Mark. Put it to better use than filming homeless people. Dude, four words: Real Men Have Diaries.

"Use your guitar," he retorts. Ah, no. Not gonna happen. I'm Emo, not masochistic. And then only when it suits me.

"When they act tough, you call their bluff," the tenants sang, completely independent of me and Mark. Oh great, not only were they posers, but they were original-supplanting posers, now. Kind of like Benny, come to think of it, so perhaps they were the best people to take him on.

But I don't what they mean, calling his bluff. He'd evict them without a second thought. He'd probably spare us some thought, but only because he's gonna want the rest of his stuff back. Well, what we didn't throw at his head as we chased him from our apartment for being a sellout when we first found out about his engagement to Muffy. I mean, sure, we attended the wedding reception, but they had free food and fangirls still scared me at that point in time so we couldn't even take advantage of mine yet.

But yeah, throwing things at Benny's head…Good times, GOOD times…Come to think of it, that was when he'd promised us free rent. Probably just wanted us to stop after we gave him a concussion.

Now, there is no way in hell that I'm gonna let some random people I would probably know if I believed in outside steal my thunder! Apparently Mark had similar thoughts, or nearly, as I'm fairly sure he, at least, believes in outside, as he joined me with, "We're not gonna pay!"

Then the tenants joined us with, "We're not gonna pay, we're not gonna pay last year's rent!" Then we started getting really ambitious. "This year's rent! Next's year's rent! Rent, rent, rent, rent! We're not gonna pay!!! 'Cause everything is RENT!!!"

Then the tenants decided that they didn't care anymore and all left. And we were left to deal with the Devil in Landlord Form. GREAT. Starting tomorrow, I am officially never leaving the main room.

"Hey, bum," Benny snarled at the poor, helpless, kindly would-be window-scraper. "Get your ass off the Range Rover." And besides, everyone knows his name isn't Bum.

It's Mr. Squeegee-Man.


	2. You'll See

Chapter Two: You'll See

Disclaimer: I still do not own Rent, and probably for the best, because if I did, I would have renamed it "Roger and Roger's Issues."

"_Benny, that attitude toward the homeless is exactly what Maureen is protesting," I call down. _

"_Maureen is protesting losing her performance space, not my attitude," Benny pointed out, slamming his car door shut. Hm, Maureen, god bless her, does tend to be a bit…um…self-focused sometimes. Or all the time. But still, if she's protesting losing her performance space because Benny wants to build a cyber-studio, then doesn't that mean that she is technically protesting his attitude? Just maybe not his attitude about the homeless?_

_As Roger and I head off towards our epic confrontation, he informs me that he's fairly certain that a fangirl moved in downstairs. Hm…must research this potential fangirl. Not, of course, like I'm a stalker who must know everything about everyone I know or anything._

"_Close up: Benjamin Coffin the third, our ex-roommate who married Alison Grey, of the Westport Greys," I narrate, training my camera on him. I hope this doesn't turn into a dramatic confrontation, because with the way Roger has decided that Benny is pure evil, he'll probably steal my film and rip every frame with Benny in it into little tiny pieces and then burn them and flush the ashes down the toilet._

"_His father-in-law bought several building on the block and a nearby vacant lot, home to Tent City." I almost said Muffy there, curse Roger's influence. "Benny hopes to evict all of the homeless from Tent City and build a cyber-studio." That has a much lamer name than Tent City. I know, I didn't think it was possible, but apparently it is._

"_Roger," Benny turns his attention away from me, the semi-biased cameraman, and towards Roger, who looks like he's about three seconds away from grabbing Benny's switchblade and attacking him with it. "You're looking good for a guy coming off of a year of withdrawal." Well, no duh, Benny. After a year, it's pretty much all out of your system, and seeing as how, to the best of my knowledge, That Man doesn't make house calls, then Roger has no possibly way of getting any drugs even if his resolve had weakened, because I think he forgot how to use the stairs. He totally made me go first to get down here, so he was probably just mimicking my mad-stair-descending skills. God knows how he'll get back up…_

"_What do you want, Benny?" Roger snapped, looking all emo again. Great, I've gotta find an excuse to ditch him when this is over because I still don't know what to film and so am TOTALLY not in the mood to listen to him angst all night. Maybe that mysterious fangirl of his can help. They're supposed to be really good at that._

"_Well, my investor-"_

"_You mean your father-in-law?" Roger corrected._

"_Right," Benny said shortly. Roger wouldn't know this because whenever anybody mentions Benny, he starts making another voodoo doll, but Benny and his father-in-law aren't exactly on speaking terms at the moment. Something about Benny calling his wife 'Muffy' on their anniversary, so he is convinced that Benny is cheating on her. Which he is, of course, but not with anyone named Muffy as far as I know. And I WOULD know. Because I care. And that's not weird. I blame the 'Muffy' thing on Roger and his inability to remember the name Alison. Or any name that starts with an A ever since April died. The minute he leaves the apartment, I am getting him a shrink. I would have gotten him one long before now, but none will come to the flat because apparently it's a "Death Trap" or whatever._

"_Read about Maureen's performance in the _Village Voice_." Why in the world was he even reading that in the first place? You'd think it would offend his delicate sellout sensibilities. "Got pissed and sent me down here to collect the rent." Although why in the world he's blaming us for this is beyond me. I read that article and it TOTALLY mentioned her ditching me for Joanne. Hell, come to think of it, reading that article was how _**I **_found out that Maureen was ditching me for Joanne. You know, that actually might be part of why we broke up: an unbelievable lack of communication._

"_What rent?" I asked quickly, hoping that he'd magically forget that he'd put up (or hired people to put up, he's kind of been scared of the Alphabet City ever since he sold out. Man, and they say it's hard to get out of GANGS…) about our imminent eviction._

"_The past year's rent, which I let slide." Yeah, but clearly he didn't let it slide all that far, or else his father-in-law wouldn't know that we hadn't paid for an entire year. Well, that we hadn't paid because of Benny for a year._

"_You said we were golden." Yeah, and I even had it on film until Roger decided to burn the film and flush the ashes down the toilet. "When you bought the building. When we were roommates. Remember, you lived here?" He's now down to two seconds before Roger kills him and buries him here._

"_How could I forget? You me, Collins, and Maureen." And Roger. Is he hoping that by pretending Roger's not there he won't kill him? That hasn't worked since Roger stopped using. "How is the drama queen?" He didn't read the notorious article?_

"She's getting ready for a performance," I said noncommittally.

"_I know." So he DID read it! Why must people ask me questions to which they already know the answer? Stupid Benny. I'm TOTALLY going to edit my film to make him look stupid._

"_Still her production manager?" He just said he read the article, which clearly states that I wasn't! Honestly, he really needs to break that skimming habit of his, badly._

"_Not exactly…" Well, technically not at all, but I wouldn't put it past Benny to hire some guys to mess with Maureen's equipment and I don't believe they teach engineering at law school._

"_Still dating her?" Oh, he is SO enjoying this. And he's about one second away before I beat Roger to the punch and stab Benny once for every stupid question he should already know the answer to since he's gotten here._

"_I was dumped." And I don't want to talk about it. He wants any more info, he can go read that damn article. Or ask Roger; he's got it memorized. Man, if his non-stop laughing at my expense wasn't doing wonders for his emo-ness I would totally be pissed at him._

"_She got a new man?" Well, I've never met this mysterious "Joanne", so I suppose technically she could have gotten a sex change operation as I don't think lawyers normally dress in drag. That just isn't considered very prestigious for some reason._

"_Well…No." I'm pretty sure that Joanne is, in fact, a girl. Or, at least would like to be referred to as a girl. And real men don't break up perfectly happy long-term relationships anyway!_

"_What's his name?" I JUST TOLD HIM THAT SHE DIDN'T HAVE A NEW MAN SO WHY ASK ME FOR THE NONEXISTANT OTHER MAN'S NAME? DIE BENNY, DIE!_

_Oh great, now I'm turning into Roger. It's a good thing Collins is back or else the two of us would probably sink into a bottomless pit of despair and just outright die of emo-ness. Speaking of Collins, I really should think about looking for him when we make Benny go away. But that could be awhile…Benny likes to hear himself talk and he can't talk to himself because while it is much less annoying, it is also a symptom of mental illness so instead Benny has to bother us while we pretend that we care. Or, scratch that, while __I__ pretend that I care and Roger stands around looking cool and attracting fangirls._

"Joanne," Mark and I say together and I am so proud of myself: I totally managed to keep a straight face. Despite the fact that Mark turned Maureen into a lesbian. I mean, I suppose technically it's a biological thing or whatever, but it's so much funnier thinking about it my way.

'Jo-' Benny, Spawn of Satan, mouths before bursting out laughing and taking more posters down. Uh, duh, dude. You totally lose laughing at your friend's misery privileges when you start charging us to hang out with you. Or live in your building, whatever. The point is: We are not friendship whores!

"Thanks for being so understanding," Mark says, sounding hurt. I'm surprised by this. It's almost as if he doesn't realize the evilly evilness of the evildoer standing in our presence. But then, he does leave the flat a bit more than I do, so I'd hate to think of what he might see that makes Benny seem like only a minor Judas.

See, THIS is why I don't leave the house. The stairs thing was just…um, because I was so thrown off that a fangirl had moved in downstairs that ordinary, easy, everyday things like stairs and how to use them just suddenly flew from my mind!

"You expect sympathy from the guy who shut off our power on Christmas Eve?" I ask. Hm, maybe I should start calling Benny 'The Guy' to compare his dastardly dastardliness with that of 'The Man' who sells drugs in a park full of schoolchildren.

"Got your attention, didn't it?" Well, yes, but so does the phone. That's what Collins used. Or, at least it got Mark's attention, but I SO wouldn't have even come down here to keep the fact that we technically know Benny as low-key as possible if it weren't for Mark anyway, so he really could have just called. And besides, I don't get what the whole 'charging rent' thing is about anyway. Anyone who can afford rent would live somewhere that is not voted the third most dangerous place to live in all of New York and I'm sure Muffy's father is far too cheap to bother tearing the building down, so why bother, really?

Now I am both confused and annoyed and somehow it is warmer out here than in our apartment and that is even more annoying, so now I'm going to start singing and hope by the end of the song Benny will magically be gone.

I walk up to Benny (shudder, shudder) and push him back slightly. "What happened to Benny? What happened to his heart? And the ideals he once pursued?" But then, come to think of it, those ideals pretty much just consisted of making money and buying expensive things and showing off how much better he was than everyone around him. Perhaps I've got it all wrong: He hasn't abandoned his ideals after all, he's merely achieved them.

"Any owner of that lot next door has the right to do with it as he pleases," Benny replied snootily. Yeah, great Benny, but we don't care about your stupid cyber-studio. Or, at least, I don't. Maureen's protesting it and I know she and Mark just broke up so who knows what he even thinks about it. But anyway, the point is that we just don't want to pay rent and if we are forced to actually come up with our own way to avoid it, a little more advanced notice would be nice.

"Happy birthday, Jesus!" I mutter, heading over to sit on Benny's truck. Hah! And he totally can't even yell at me until the song is over, by which point either he will be gone or I really will have to confiscate that switchblade. It really isn't very respectable, being illegal and all, and while that's not a problem for an ex-junkie rocker, it could prove embarrassing for a respectable businessman like Benny.

"The rent-" Benny began.

"You're wasting your time," Mark informed him. I mean, honestly, when has he EVER known us to pay rent? Ever? Seriously, it's no wonder all our ex-landlords hate us and I suppose that it's only natural that Benny hates us now, too. But he is still evil!

"We're broke," I pointed out. So we actually have a legitimate reason for not paying. Although, come to think of it, we're probably be able to pay if we would simply get jobs and not spend all of our money on designer clothes…

"And you broke your word—this is absurd." Apparently Mark can't get past Benny's blatant iniquity either. Good to know. Or perhaps he was just referring to the tenant three windows over from ours and two floors under who just pointed to us and made a slashing motion across his neck. Honestly, it's not our fault he's been brainwashed by corporate America. I was off being Emo about April, Mark was probably filming it, and Collins was wondering exactly how you can teach a class about anarchy at the time.

"There is one way you won't have to pay," Benny announced. Ah, so he DOES have some diabolical reason for coming to pester us.

"I knew it!"

Benny chose to ignore that. "Next doors the home of CyberArts, you see, and now that the block is rezoned, our dream can become a reality!" Um, YOUR dream, Benny. Your dream. You're the one who has always been obsessed with making lots of money and having a shiny new studio. Personally, I just want to know why I can't stop playing Musetta's waltz and why it's taken Mark five years and he's STILL not done with his documentary. Come to think of it, he probably is, too. Hm, maybe it's the fact I keep looting and sporadically destroying his footage? Nah. But I do know he was almost finished when April died and he decided to cut out anything that had to do with her, and then the rest of it didn't make sense, so…

"You'll see, boys." I twitched. He's, what, three years older than us, tops. That does NOT make us 'boys.' He noticed this and, because he's apparently suicidal, he smirked and dragged out his next line. "You'll see, boys. A state-of-the-art, digital, _virtual_ interactive studio." He does realize that that went right over my head, right? Basically I heard, 'Blah, blah, blah, I'm a sellout and if you become sellouts too then you don't have to pay your rent and Roger can join a boy band and Mark can work for _Buzzline_."

"I'll forgo your rent-" AGAIN? And wouldn't his father-in-law have a problem with that as he was sent here specifically to forcibly collect it? And he must have been pretty serious, or there's no way that Benny would actually be here. "And on paper guarantee that you can stay here for free…" Hey, wait, didn't we get it on paper last time? No, wait, we got it on film. Whatever happened to that, anyway? I seem to remember being drunk and seeing it just lying around in Mark's camera in his room locked in his closet and…Oh God…Stupid alcohol. I'm going to have to drink SO much more in order to forget that this whole mess is technically partially my fault. But really! Mark should be more careful of his things and not leave them out where anyone with locking picking skills could find them.

"If you do me one small favor." Please, if it were a small favor, he really would have just called. That would be SO much cheaper than the gas for his Range Rover.

"What?" Mark asked, seeing that I was about to flip Benny off and apparently not hating Benny nearly as much as I do.

"Convince Maureen to cancel her protest." Ha, right, like we have any control over what that girl does. And getting her EX-BOYFRIEND to try and convince her…God, being a sellout really DOES kill brain cells. Typical.

"_Why not just get an injunction or call the cops?" Perhaps I ought to have been concerned when Maureen randomly started using all that legal jargon…Ah well, it's too late now. _

"_Yeah I did, but my investors-"coughfather-in-lawcough "would rather I handle this quietly…" You know, the entire time he's been here, he's been ripping posters down. I don't know why, I mean, Maureen made me put up about fifteen hundred in the Alphabet City alone and everyone already knows about the protest anyway, thanks to the _Village Voice

"_You can't quietly wipe out an entire tent city then watch it's a wonderful life on TV!" Roger gets off the car and gets into Benny's personal space._

_Benny retaliates by pushing Roger, who, for his part, looks like Benny's mere touch is agony, back a bit and attacking me with my scarf. Which is slightly odd. And a bit embarrassing. It's like:_

'_Oh, so what'd you do today Mark?'_

'_Oh, nothing much, just sang a bunch of songs, found out we had candles, lit a trashcan on fire…Oh, and I got attacked by a scarf.'_

'…_Right__.'_

"_You wanna produce films and write songs?" Um…yes. Haven't you learned that in all the years you lived with us? My God, you're an even worse friend that I thought if you felt the need to phrase that in question form. "You need somewhere to do it!" Good point. Except, of course, that you can really write songs anyway and you can't very well shoot documentary inside a cyber-studio. Unless, of course, it happened to be ABOUT a cyber-studio. Unless, of course, the cyber-studio was secretly homeless and had AIDS._

"_It's what we used to dream about, think twice before you pooh-pooh it." Oh God…POOH-POOH it?!?! Poor Benny, he's even farther gone that I had though. He must've gotten that phrase from Alison, because I'm almost positive he would have gotten shut for saying something like that here. Multiple times. Come to think of it, I can see t here people loading guns. Benny better get out of here, quickly._

_And honestly, just because he married wealth is no reason to start using the royal we on us! 'What we used to dream about'? Honestly? He's the one who dreamt about it and he's not royalty and so he really should stop acting like it. Or do his part to end homelessness by hiring a chauffer._

"_You'll see boys, you'll see boys," he echoed, enjoying pissing Roger off and clearly having no idea just how much his life was in danger right now. "You'll see the beauty of a studio-"Yeah, that's not weird at ALL. "That let's us do our work and get paid." Please, what do we need money for besides rent? Roger's fangirls are usually more than willing to pay for everything else we need._

"_With condos on the top, whose rent keeps open our shop-" We might have considered it, we really might have, until he used the R word. "Just stop the protest and you'll have it made." Um, yeah. We wouldn't have to pay rent and all, but we'd still live in a deathtrap and that's not exactly what I'd consider 'having it made.' And I honestly don't think that there's anything in this world that can stop Maureen's quest for constant media exposure._

"_You'll see," he declared confidently. "Or you'll pack." Then he just up and left without even saying goodbye! Or Merry Christmas! Ah well, maybe he saw Roger about to lunge for that switchblade finally._

_Now that that's over with, it's time for the true test: Seeing if Roger can get up the stairs in under ten minutes._

A/N: Review, please!


	3. One Song Glory

Chapter Three: One Song Glory

Disclaimer: Rent is _still_ not mine.

_Okay. FINALLY made it back up to the top. I didn't pay strict attention to the clock, so I have no idea whether Roger managed to beat my guess, but I think that it was pretty close, one way or another. _

_After all the singing and stair climbing/descending and whatnot, Collins should REALLY be up here by now. I'm not sure why he's not and so I was getting a bit worried._

_Then I made the mistake of asking Roger what he thought about it, and now I'm even MORE worried. "I was gonna go try to find Collins. You wanna come?" Yeah, that'll be day._

_He gives me a look that shows he's clearly thinking something along those very lines. Still, maybe if I bug him enough, he'll eventually just give up and leave the house just so I'll shut up about his hermitage. Is that a word? Ah, well, I'll put it in my movie. THEN it'll be a word. I just have to find a frindle and write it down so I don't forget._

"_I thought maybe we could all grab some dinner." Because I am totally not going into that grocery store again after I was attacked by an angry homeless person who was in there so as to not freeze to death. Good God, homeless people can be VERY ungrateful sometimes. I saved him from getting thrown out and left to die by callous store employees and what is my reward? A lecture about morals and five boxes of cereal thrown at my head! So, basically, until I find a new grocery store we are going to have to rely on the Life Café._

"_Zoom in on my empty wallet," Roger tells me, like either of us had any plans to pay. Like, at all. But I suppose that's the best excuse Roger can come up with when he hasn't had any food in the last thirty-six hours. Damn you, moody homeless person and your affinity for throwing large boxes! And then, when he moved on to the cans…Not pretty._

"_Take your AZT," I remind him for the fifty-billionth time. And I __do__ have to remind him, because even though he's known he's HIV-positive since before he stopped leaving the house, AZT starts with an A, like April, and thus he is incapable of remembering that, either._

_As I leave, I hear Roger begin to sing, "I'm writing one great song before I…"_

_  
Yeah. Maybe when I'll get back, I'll explain to Roger that you kind of need to finish your sentences in order to finish a song. He's just never seemed to get that._

_It'll have to wait until I come back, though, because I'm completely in shock right now that I managed to get out of there on my first try. Usually when Roger's being all emo, he barricades the door and complains that everyone hates him. Which they don't. They're just annoyed. Mostly because he just barricaded them in. But whatever. Man, Roger must be REALLY Emo right now. It's a good thing I've gotten out, because if I try to get back in I get the feeling that I'd be stuck there until Roger's songs done._

_And I honestly don't think our apartment has enough oxygen for that_.

Well, my apartment is beginning to freeze my guitar strings and, though I'm not positive because this is my first night playing the guitar since The Bathtub Incident, I'm pretty sure that that is hardly conducive writing a song. So I head up to the roof, which, though outside, is still technically part of the building and somehow infinitely warmer than the inside.

In fact, I'm willing to bet that Benny turned the air conditioning on in our apartment for no other reason than to prove he has money to burn (as if smoking twenties wasn't bad enough, I mean, honestly) and because he is a sadistic little creep who always makes it a point to date all of my girlfriends before I even meet them. I mean, I don't know how he does it, but seeing as how it has happened seventeen times in a row, it cannot be a coincidence. I guess I'll just have to chalk it up to pure evil instinct.

Now that I'm on the roof I realize that, though my guitar is no longer growing icicles, it still needs to thaw, so I should probably not use it for a few minutes. But as long as I am up here I might as well do _something_ and I simply do not believe in a Capella, I will simply have to make use of my amazing not-even-touching-the-instrument-guitar-playing-abilities. Abilities which are a TOTAL chick magnet. Or will be, when I decide to speak to the female species again.

"One song: Glory." I'm not entirely sure if Glory will be the name of the song or if I just want glory out of it and I will probably have to figure this out at some point in time, but right now I'm just killing time and practicing being emo, so I can worry about it later.

"One song before I go." I wonder, is 'go' obvious enough that I mean 'die' or do I need to specify? I mean, I could mean, go on tour, go on vacation, or even go and sell out. Although, if Benny is any indication, that last one could very well kill me.

"Glory, one song to leave behind." That makes it sound more like I'm talking about dying, but now it sounds like I'm talking to someone NAMED Glory. Which could be short for Gloria or something. But that would mean that I was talking to a girl, which I'm not right now because they are scare and sometimes downright suicidal. Not mentioning any names, coughthe-fourth-month-because-I-will-not-deign-to-say-your-namecough. Or Glory could be a guy. Like, as in a boy named Sue. Or maybe Glory is even the name of my guitar. Which, it's not. But it SO could be.

"Find one song, one last refrain." Now it sounds like I'm talking about a scavenger hunt or something. Or like, my song ran away and so now I should be making Mark put up posters for it. He's good with posters, having singlehandedly made half the planet aware of Maureen's show. The other half are dreadfully boring people who do not approve of Maureen's new lesbian lifestyle and so are pointedly ignoring it.

"Glory from the pretty-boy front man," which is totally me, by the way. In case you thought there was anyone I know who is prettier than me. Which there isn't. "Who wasted Opportunity." And even though I have had about three groupies call themselves that (apparently it's to make it more obvious they want to sleep with me), I am not actually talking about getting any of them drunk. I'm talking about the whole 'doing drugs and getting AIDS' kind of thing. It's hard to be a legend when you're living on borrowed time, are having issues with rent, and are spending what time is left being all emo. But hey, that's life, right?

"One song, he had the world at his feet. Glory, in the eyes of a young girl. A young girl." Whose name was NOT glory, oddly enough. It was…something or other. Not Muffy, that's Benny's wife. Not Maureen, either, that's Mark's ex. Not Mimi either, and I can't even think why that name just randomly popped into my head.

"Find glory, beyond the cheap colored lights. One song before the sun sets." Which is TOTALLY poetic. The sun setting represents me dying. I knew that those poetry classes weren't a waste of time! AND they were a great way to meet women, too.

"Glory on another empty life." Now, I'm not entirely sure what exactly constitutes a 'full' life, but an empty life sounds so much more tragic and like people will buy my song when I finally get around to writing it.

"Time flies. Time dies." But then, that's really what Time gets for downing three bottles of tequila and convincing herself that she's superman. I mean, HELLO, you'd think she'd have noticed the wrong gender think, but she was a lightweight, so…Oh, and Time is another groupie of mine, by the way. I'm really wondering about these girls parents. They all have such hippie names. I bet half of them are children of flower children and former groupies. And famous musicians, of course.

"Glory. One blaze of glory. One blaze of glory." That is totally the way to go. I mean, I, for one, will never forget that guy whose fiancé was totally cheating on him with his brother, best friend, AND boss. Naturally, he didn't take the rampant speculation over who the father was when she got pregnant, so he lit himself on fire and jumped off a bridge. I mean, yes, tragic, of course. But the explosion was AWESOME! What? I'm a guy.

"Find glory in a song that rings true. Truth like a blazing fire." Mark totally got that on film. "An eternal flame. Find one song, a song about love." Hopefully the good kind of love and not the kind of love where your groupie-turned-girlfriend turns out to be a junkie and then turns you into a junkie and gives you HIV and doesn't see fit to let you know until she writes you a not saying 'we've got AIDS' and slits her wrists in YOUR bathtub. Where you go to bathe. Where YOU'LL be the one to find the body. Which was really bitchy of her, come to think of it. I mean, it's one thing to go and kill yourself. But really, April? Really? Did you have to do it right there? Couldn't you have gone and found a bridge to light yourself on fire atop of? Or pills, even? ANYTHING? Honestly, no wonder I'm so emo. In fact, if Mark hadn't been strictly supervising me whenever I was around fire, I might have actually taken my own suggestion at some point.

But anyway, now I can't because I've got a song to write. "Glory. From the soul of a young man. A young man." As far as I can tell, if you get HIV in your twenties, anything you live to is young.

"Find one song before the virus takes hold. Glory. Like a sunset. One song to redeem this empty life." Although redeem it for what, I have yet to find out. What are lives going for these days? Must ask Benny the next time I can see him without getting homicidal. Or better yet! I can get Mark to ask Benny. Mark is usually far too busy worrying about damaging his camera to seriously consider seriously damaging anyone else.

"Time flies. And then no need to endure anymore. Time dies." Seriously, when one of your groupies jumps out of the window of the hotel that you're staying at, the media's feeding frenzy can be absolutely BRUTAL. That's one good thing about leaving that all behind me, I guess.

Now, my guitar should be sufficiently unfrozen so time to get off the roof. I carefully head down the stairs to my apartment (I only have to use the railing to steady myself twice) when, all of a sudden, I spot that potential fangirl from earlier. And she's smiling at me. And wielding a candle!

Experience has taught me that this does not bode well.


	4. Light My Candle

Chapter Four: Light My Candle

Disclaimer: I don't own RENT.

Okay, so I'm sitting in the loft, trying my best not to freeze to death (not as easy as it sounds) or think about the fact that my love life could very well e forcibly jumpstarted by Candle-Girl, when all of a sudden, there's a knock at the door.

Please be Mark, having somehow lost one of the seven keys that he carries around, in case he sees someone that he just randomly feels the need to give the key to (which happens much more often than you'd think). "What'd you forget?" I demand.

It's not Mark. Damn. It's her. And she looks very confused. "Got a light?"

Oddly enough she is not talking about smoking, like the question implies, but she is talking about literally lighting an honest-to-God candle, which she is still toting with her. Hm, does she have some sort of fetish or something?

"I know you, you're—" I start to say, but realize that Candle-Girl is probably not her given name. Well, at least I don't think that it is. Fangirls have been known to possess names of that caliber and stranger. "You're shivering." I say instead. Which seems rather obvious, considering I had to go up to the roof to save my guitar once it got frostbite. Of course SHE'S shivering, I'm wearing a leather jacket and I'm cold, she's only got that damn candle for warmth.

"It's nothing, they turned off my heat," she explains, as if the heat weren't off in the whole building. "And I'm just a little weak on my feet." I did not notice that. Oh God, this isn't going to turn into an excuse for her to fall all over me, is it? I hate it when they do that… "Would you light my candle?" she held it out.

Great how she just assumes I have matches. I mean, I do and all, but why would she just knock on some random guys door and demand matches? For all she knows, I could be a murderer, or a kidnapper, or a rapist, or even gay! And trust me, I know this from seeing attempts fail countless times on Collins: No matter how hot the girl is or how much she flirts, it is simply not possible to turn a gay man straight. And again, I'm not, but I could be!

Come to think of it, she wants a candle so bad, why doesn't she have her own damn matches? And why does she want that candle, anyway? She can't be THAT desperate for heat that she'd really on that flimsy candle, and it doesn't do much in the way of lighting.

"What are you staring at?" Candle-Girl asked abruptly, playing with her hair almost as soon as I'd lit it.

"Nothing," I reply. It's called, we're having a conversation. It is usually considered "good manners" to look at the person you're talking to, not staring. And so what if I'm not blinking as much as I normally would? There are icicles forming on my eyelashes and thus it hurts to blink.

And she's STILL playing with her hair. Well, it's obvious what she wants to hear. "Your hair in the moonlight." Moonlight. You know, as in, an alternative to candlelight that doesn't involve you coming up here and bothering me. "You look familiar."

And…now she's falling. But backwards, not forwards, so I'm safe for now.

"Can you make it?" I ask, genuinely concerned. If not, then she'll expect to spend the night here and then Mark'll come back and she'll claim we did it and I'll NEVER here the end of it. I put my jacket on her to warm her up and restore the circulation to her legs. So she can leave.

"Just haven't eaten much today at least the room stopped spinning, anyway," she said, spinning around. Um, Candle-Girl? Perhaps the room isn't spinning, YOU are spinning. Just a thought. And not eating for one day doesn't cause random near-collapses. It has to be a pattern.

"What?" She demanded again. Oh, that's rich. So basically, this random girl comes barging into MY apartment and then is accusing ME of stalking her? Typical. I smell a lawsuit…We really should meet that lawyer girlfriend of Maureen's, Joanne.

And I look at loads of things every day without being obsessed with them! This girl needs to get over herself. That's it! I'm officially changing her name from Candle-Girl to

Me-Me.

"You're smile reminded me of—" I begin, but Me-Me interrupts me. How rude. Don't ask a question if you don't care about the answer!

"I always 'remind people of.'" Well, no duh, Me-Me. The first time you meet someone, people have a tendency to compare you with people they already know. It's called CONNECTING with people. Even I can remember that back from my pre-Emo-Hermit days. Speaking of which, she is totally ruing my Emo-Hermit image for me! LEAVE NOW! Or I will assault you with the power of crappy manuscripts! No, wait, can't do that, we burned them earlier. It was very dramatic, but what I wouldn't give to be able unleash the full power of "Furbies of DOOM!" onto Me-Me.

"Who is she?" she asked, totally blowing out the candle. I mean, come on, I'm a bit socially challenged at the moment (but nowhere near as bad as Mark is, trust me), but I'm not a bloody idiot!

"Her name was April." Now, never, ever repeat that ever again. Because the minute you leave, I'm going to go find that hypnotist who lives upstairs so I can completely forget her name again. It annoys Mark, but my inability to remember A-names always amuses Collins. Well, when he's not dating guys with A-names, anyway.

"It's out again!" Me-Me exclaims, as if she just discovered this. She better be acting. If not…Hm, I wonder if she's using the candle for drugs and has suffered some brain damage from it? Ah, well, it's not like I'll ever see her again after tonight.

"Sorry 'bout your friend." Yeah. Right. FRIEND. As in **girl**friend, do you mean? Because that's really the more accurate term. "Would you light my candle?" Again with that damn fetish! How does one come to develop a candle fetish anyway?

I lit it again. "Well?" Why are you still here?

"Yeah?" She asks expectantly. Is she _really_ going to make me kick her out? That would make me feel mean. And maybe a bit guilty. But I'd do it anyway.

Suddenly she jerked. "Oh! The wax. It's—dripping." Hah, serves her right for invading my personal space and not worrying about her stupid candle. Crap, could this mean she's developing an Emo-Hermit fetish? I hope not, or I'm in trouble. Ah well, maybe Benny will evict her and all my problems will be solved.

Unless Mark, ever the bleeding-heart camera-man, invites her to move in with us. And she steals my room. And makes me sleep on the couch. CURSE YOU BENNY! I'm actually not really sure why, at the moment, but I'm sure he's just done something corporate and soulless to screw us over.

"I like it between my—" Now she is REALLY invading my personal space. And wrapping her fingers around my hand, as if she never, ever intends to let me go. Ever again. Nuh-uh. No way. I'm not giving up without a fight!

"Finger," I supply. "I figured." But if she really did, then why'd she complain it hurt? Is she a masochist or something? I hop not. The last girl I dated who was a masochist kept getting turned on by my attempts to break up with her. Which was great for my sex life, but horrible for my efforts to move on.

Guess she really is waiting for me to kick her out and won't leave until I do? Fine. "Oh, well, good night."

She walks away, swinging her hips far more than is necessary on the way, let me tell you, when all of a sudden she stops at the door. Now, despite the fact that she is still technically IN THE ROOM and my attention is focused on her to make sure that she leaves without planting a hidden camera in my underwear drawer or shower or something (which has been known to happen on numerous occasions), Me-Me feels the need to KNOCK. Three times.

"It blew out again?" I ask sarcastically. I TOTALLY say her blow it out on the way to the door.

"No, I think that I dropped my stash."

Oh, God, she IS a junkie. Not good, not good, not good…Have to think of a way to get rid of her, fast. "I know I've seen you out and about when I used to go out." Hah, that oughta do it! When I USED to go out, implying that I no longer do and am now no fun and she'd probably have been luck getting Mark out on the party scene. "You're candle's out," I add as an afterthought. So she was lying when she said it didn't blow out. With her help.

"I'm illin', I had it when I walked in the door," she explains. Oh, the withdrawal explains the shivering that it would be perfectly natural for her to be doing even if she wasn't an addict! And what's that supposed to mean, she had it when she walked in the door? Does she think I stole it or something? "It was pure!" Now, if she really does think that I stole it, that bit of information would make me about ten times less likely to give it back. "Is it on the floor?" she bends down and starts looking.

"The floor?" I ask. I can understand the basic I idea of that and the logic behind it, but how does she expect that it ended up under the table? Perhaps she has a thing for tables. I knew a girl once who had sexual relations with a table. I think she's still in rehab…

"They say that I have the best ass below fourteen street. Is it true?" Me-Me suddenly asks, wiggling her but and promptly abandoning her search.

"What?" Why would I know? Doesn't she get that I don't go out anymore? And doesn't she have some sort of mirror she can figure it out herself with?

"You're staring again." You're wiggling your ass. You can't tell me you mind.

"Oh, no. I mean, you do have a nice—" NO! What am I doing? Rule #37 when dealing with fangirls: Never, ever compliment them under any circumstances ever. Otherwise, they will invariably take it as a sign that you want to get hitched. "I mean, you look familiar." I bent down and began looking for her stash so she'd hurry up and leave. You know, I bet she planted it so she wouldn't have to.

"Like your dead girlfriend?" How rude. But at least she's acknowledging we dated.

"Only when you smile, but I'm sure I've seen you somewhere else." Unfortunately, all the fangirls tend to run together in my mind.

"Do you go to the Cat Scratch Club?" Doesn't Me-Me mean, DID I go? When I still left the house? "That's were I work, I…dance." Well, that's certainly one word for it.

"Yes, they used to tie you up."

"It's a living," she replied, annoyed. Well, if she didn't want to talk about it, maybe she shouldn't have brought it up. Ah, well, I plan on milking this for all it's worth. Although I do wonder what it'd be like to date an exotic dancer.

"I didn't recognize you without the handcuffs."

She ignored me, however, and held her candle out to me. "We could light the candle. Oh, won't you light the candle?" Oh great, now she's REALLY shaking, she has to use both of her hands to steady the candle. And where is the 'we' in me lighting her stupid candle? Wait…is this some sort of a euphemism for 'let's get high'?

"Why don't you forget that stuff? You look like you're 16." I am TOTALLY not falling for that again. 'Just one time,' my ass!

"I'm 19," she retorted, climbing to her feet, indignant I thought she was jailbait. Still, while 19 is legal, it's only just and a bit too young for me. "But I'm old for my age," Me-Me hastened to add. "I'm just born to be bad."

"I once was born to be bad. I used to shiver like that-" I began, but was again interrupted.

"I have no heat, I told you!" Not like that would matter. The fact that _I_ have no heat is more relevant at the moment because she is in my flat.

"I used to sweat."

"I got a cold." She better stay away from me then, diseases are dangerous.

"Uh-huh. I used to be a junkie."

"But now and then I like to feel good." Unbelievable. How can she be talking about how great heroin makes her feel when she's in the throes of withdrawal at this very moment?

Found it! Jackpot. "Oh, here." I say, picking her heroin up.

"What's that?" Me-Me asked, entirely too eager for my tastes. Something tells me I'm going to regret this as it may very well keep her here longer but somehow I just can't give it back. Besides, I haven't fed the toilet in awhile, ever since Mark bought that better lock, and I think that it needs the drugs more than she does.

"Candy-bar wrapper."

"We could light the candle." But why would she want with the candle without the drugs? I light it, but quickly put it out when she's not looking. "Oh, what'd you do with my candle?" Oh, so it's perfectly plausible it blows out three times in two minutes for her but it can't blow out one more time? Typical.

"That was my last match," I said, plopping down on the sofa so she wouldn't see her stash sticking out of my back-pocket. Too late do I realize my mistake, that's as good as an invitation for her to sit down as well. WHY WON'T SHE LEAVE?!?!

"Our eyes'll adjust." So she really doesn't care about the candle? Then why bother me? Stupid fangirl. "Thank God for the moon," she said, no doubt referencing my earlier comment about her hair. Oh God, the last thing this girl needs is encouragement.

"Maybe it's not the moon at all. I hear Spike Lee's shootin' down the street."

"Bah humbug. Bah humbug," she says, reminding me irresistibly of Scrooge just then. And NOW SHE'S PLAYING WITH MY HAND! DEAR GOD, WILL IT EVER END?!?!

"Cold hands." Translation: Get them off of me.

"Yours too." Translation: Make me. "Big. Like my father's." Oh, ew. What kind of thing is that to say to someone you're hitting on? Comparing their hands to your fathers? I don't think I even want to know. "Do you wanna dance?"

Without even waiting for an answer, Me-Me pulls me up. Still, I try anyway. "With you?"

"No, with my father." AGAIN with the father parallels. This is starting to get creepy. And while I'll probably regret this in the morning, I've got to dispel the notion that I am like her father, and as I'm pretty sure mine is not a Hispanic name…

"I'm Roger."

"They call me, they call me," Me-Me said, dancing all around me and taking her stash back. "Mimi." I knew it!

She waved it in my face and leaves. FINALLY.

I'm going to have to start making people give the password before letting them up here.

Review Please!


	5. Today 4 U

Chapter Five: Today 4 You

Disclaimer: I don't own RENT.

Note: Okay, I'm using an internet script for the dialogue, and it doesn't mention who says what, so I may mix some of it up, but oh well. Oh, and thanks for all the kind reviews!

_Wow. I can't believe I was out all NIGHT and found no trace of Collins. I mean, geez. He could've at least called if he had other plans._

"_We got power," Roger informed me as I finally returned to the apartment._

"_Merry Christmas," I mumble. NEED CAFFEINE!_

_I was about to go grab a cup when all of a sudden, the phone rang. Roger was too emo and I was too exhausted to bother answering it. Besides, no one we actually like ever bothers calling us, they just come over, so, considering Collins rigged the pay phone to dispense quarters when you typed the right numbers (26559, although he said he's not sure why he picked that) for whatever calls we'd need to make, I'm not entirely sure why we even still have a phone at all. _

"_SPEAK," my voice and Roger's say simultaneously. Oh, that's why: our kickass answering machine message._

"_Mark, are you there?" Eek! My mother! Hide me, hide me, I will not grow a beard! Roger would laugh himself to death and thus ruin all of my hard work reminding him to take his AZT five times a day!_

"_Are you screening your calls?" It's sad that that's the first thing that she thinks of when we don't answer. Of course, we totally are, but still, she can't know that…can she? Oh God, I hope she doesn't hire another detective to 'check up on' me. Honestly, I'm a big boy and I can take care of myself! Most muggers just get freaked out when I start filming their attempt to mug me and just end up leaving anyway. "It's mom." I know; hence the reason I'm screening my calls. That and our message _**never**_ gets old._

"_I just wanted to call and say we love you. We'll miss you today. Cindy and the kids are here." Yeah, yeah, just rub it in how CINDY found a nice Jewish boy to go and marry. I just bet she says something stupid and tacky about the whole mess with Maureen. I mean, I get that she's my only girlfriend, like, ever and that we'd been dating since before my bar mitzvah, but still. STILL! I'll meet someone eventually. They say that it takes about a third of the time you dated someone to get over them so in five or so years, I should be set._

"_They send their love." Bloodthirsty brats always short-sheet me…"Hope you like the hot plate. Don't leave it on when you leave the house." Hm, considering that I recently found out that they put a lucrative insurance policy on my flat, I wonder if she really means that, or if it's supposed to be reverse psychology. I wouldn't know, but if I were still dating Maureen, I could ask her. She's always been much better than I am at messing with people's heads and manipulating them into doing her bidding. But my God, does she look hot doing it…What? I still have 4 years and 11 months to get over her!_

"_Honey, give me the phone," a man's voice said. Either my mother is now having a very public affair, or that's my father. Crap, he has even less tact than she does! "Listen, Mark, I'm sorry to hear that Maureen dumped you." Translation: Will I live to see grandkids to carry on the family name?_

"_I say, c'est la vie. __Let her be a lesbian." Wow, thanks dad. Thanks a lot. I feel SO much better now after that obviously well-thought-out grain of wisdom. "She doesn't know what she's missing." Well, uh, considering we've been dating for half of our lives, I'd say that this is one case where she knows EXACTLY what she's missing. Thanks for playing, dad. "Happy holidays." And on that cheery note, they hang up._

_I walk over to Roger, who is still recovering from nearly choking after what dad said. "You know…there are times when we're dirt broke. "Such as all the time, "And hungry. And freezing." I could go on, but Roger shoots me a look that clearly says, 'I get it already, and we've totally already done a song where we complain about how miserable our living conditions are and trust me, lighting trashcans on fire is SO much cooler in the dark.'_

"_And I ask myself, 'Why the hell am I still living here?'" I mean, honestly, considering my mad rent-evading skills, all I really need to do is bother to find a free apartment. Er, open apartment. Which we'd totally stay in for free. But nicer apartments have annoying neighbors who complain when you pour flaming paper on them, and stay up all night singing loudly, and give out keys to the building to anyone who asks, and it's full of restaurants who actually expect you to order food and then, when you do, actually pay for it, and not move the tables together and dance on them._

_Oh, that and I promised Roger than I'd stay with him so as to try to start a rumor that he's gay so as to deter any potential fangirls. When I agreed to this, I was still dating Maureen, but now that I'm single the arrangement works well, too. Considering how many girls think that gay guys are hot (Collins is living proof of this), my chances of getting laid just totally increased tenfold. But apparently Roger hasn't realized this yet._

"_And then they call. And I remember." I notice that Roger is not looking at me. Now, granted this may very well be from years of me yelling at him to stop looking at the camera ingrained into him, but since I'm not actually holding a camera right now, I turn to look at whatever in our apartment has joined the ever-growing list of Things Roger Finds More Interesting That Me. It turns out that this time it's a window. Or rather, a message written on a window. 'Brunch just us? –Mimi.'_

"_What's that?" I asked. Has Roger been getting some action while I was out searching for Collins and filming homeless people? Typical. I bet he and Collins arranged the whole thing. And then Collins got some action. Ah well, at least at this rate I'll never get AIDS._

"_The girl downstairs," is all Roger has to say about it. The girl downstairs WHAT, Roger dearest? That sentence lacks a verb! How the hell does he expect to be able to write songs that don't have any verbs? God, between this and his tendency to not finish sentences, it's no wonder his song's not done!_

"Oh, the dancer from the Cat Scratch Club?" HOW DOES HE KNOW? HOW DOES HE ALWAYS KNOW? I swear, Mark chose the wrong profession. He should have been a private detective. I can just picture it now:

Man: I think that my wife is cheating on me.

Mark: Don't worry she's not.

Man: How do you know?

Mark: I know EVERYTHING.

Man: Than why is she acting so secretive?  
Mark: She's secretly bisexual and has been going to strip clubs.

Man: My wife is into women as well as men?

Mark: Correct.

Man: Sweet! I smell a threesome!

"Well, you are going, right?" Mark asks. I consider, this is technically in the apartment, so I could do with a change of scenery. On the other hand, she does drugs and I have AIDS, so perhaps now's not the best time for a relationship. Not to mention that I just did rehab, she's clearly a self-centered fangirl, and being in love tends to kill any emo-ness you might naturally possess. And I've finally perfected my Hot Emo haircut!

"No."

"Oh, come on, Roger."

"No." She's scary. And I don't even want to know how she incorporates her candle and father fetish together…

Fortunately I was saved any further answering by Collins, of all people, who threw open the door, and entered with a smile and a container that appeared to have food in it. "Merry Christmas, bitches."

"Hey, Collins," Mark said neutrally. While that may be an awesomely tee-shirt worthy line, nothing quite beats the time he ran naked through the Parthenon.

"Your keys," he tossed them back.

"Yeah, 14 hours later," Mark laughed as Collins staggered slightly. Well, that is, Mark laughed and then Collins staggered, not that Mark laughed at Collins staggering. Mostly because Collins would totally kick his ass. "What the hell happened to you? Are you all right?"

"I've never been better. Here." Oh God, Collins is in love again. I hope this one doesn't insist on describing to us, in detail, mind you, just how great sex with Collins is. I mean, we're close, but not quite THAT close. Though now that Mark isn't getting any, he might be interested. Granted, I'm not getting any either, but if Mimi has her way, that'll change within the week.

While I was musing, Collins looked expectantly at me and I realize I've actually been thinking about Collins having sex, though not in that way, and there's no way I can explain that without Mark somehow managing to get me on film looking like an idiot. "Oh, hi."

But apparently I look like an idiot anyway as Collins just stares at me. " 'Oh, hi,'" he mocked. "After seven months?" He gives me a manly hug, sans manly back-pat.

"I'm sorry." On SO many levels…

"You know what you need?" Collins asked me. You mean OTHER than therapy to get rid of the unpleasant mental images? But since I'm still not leaving the house I guess another trip to the hypnotist who lives upstairs is in order. Without waiting for an answer though, Collins rushed to the container and pulled something out, saying, "This boy could use some Stoli!"

Yay! Alcohol! It's the proven cause and solution to all of life's problems, you know. And since I already have issues, I figure it can only solve my problems! And if not, well, the emoer I am the hotter I get, so that's cool, too.

"This is a complete Christmas feast," Mark remarked, awed. No it's not, it's alcohol and some Ramon. While that is always nice, it's not exactly feast material. But then, what would he know about Christmas feasts, he's Jewish? And come to think of it, why would his Jewish parents wish him a Merry Christmas? Sigh. I guess this is just another sign that Christmas is now nothing more than a Hallmark Holiday. I swear, can I GET any more disillusioned?

"Thank you…" Collins said, just as confused by Mark's statement as I am.

"You struck gold at MIT," I said hurriedly in an attempt to change the subject to something less awkward.

Apparently my attempt was a dismal failure, however, as Collins paused. "Ah, no. They expelled me for my theory of actual reality." Actual reality? How do you fire a professor for a theory? There must be more to it than that! And, knowing Collins, he probably painted the words 'Actual Reality' on his chest before running through the halls naked. And what is that theory even about? I want to ask him, but I'm afraid that his explanation will go right over my head.

"One for you, one for you, for me…" Collins passed out the drinks. "So I came back home. Merry Christmas. Cheers."

"Welcome home," Mark said. Oh great, don't get me wrong, I love Collins and all, but we simply do not have enough room for Mark to invite every single person we talk to to stay with us!

"I got a teaching gig at NYU," Collins said, looking at me like 'Dude, come on, I can chip in with the rent.' Obviously seven months is longer than I thought if he forgot that we don't actually pay rent. Like, ever. Collins never was very good at rent evasion, though. Something about how all his arguments tend to go right over landlords' heads. Not to mention that losing his temper and calling them all 'capitalist pigs', like he usually does, tends to get him arrested. First Amendment or not, everyone still hates Communism.

"Oh, so that's how you can afford to splurge on us," Mark said naively. First off, I'd like to comment that it's a sad reflection on our lives if he considers this splurging. Secondly, just because Collins has to pay for things like a normal person is no reason to make fun of him. Save in for Benny, the root of all evil. And finally, he hasn't even started teaching so, giving his reputation as vagabond anarchist, they probably haven't given him an advance. Come to think of it, why do people keep hiring him, given his tendency to get kicked out of his places of employment?

"No. Sit down." Uh-oh. No one ever tells us to sit down unless they're outing themselves or revealing they have AIDS. Since Collins has already done both, I can only imagine what unspeakable horror he's about to reveal to us.

To my surprise though, he started grinning. God, don't tell me he's sadistic now, too; Benny the Yuppie Scum is already more than I can take. "Gentlemen, our benefactor on the Christmas day, whose charity is only matched by talent I must say." So…now he's singing? Okay. It's a bit early for that, but since he's clearly been up all night it must not seem so to him. "A new member of the Alphabet City Avant-garde: Angel Dumott Schunard!" Then he ran to the door and pulled it open to reveal…

A drag queen? This is a new one. Hey, wait, was Angel standing out there waiting this whole time we were talking? My God, such dedication to making a dramatic entrance! If Angel was born a girl and still homosexual, she'd totally end up with Maureen…

"Today for you, tomorrow for me!" She's singing too? My God, what is wrong with these people? Oh look, but she has money! And…she's giving ME money! I now worship the ground Angel walks on.

"Today for you, Tomorrow for me," and she repeated the process with Mark.

"And you should hear her beat," Collins said proudly, sounding strangely like a production manager.

"You earned this on the street?" Mark asked incredulously. I know what he's thinking, but I think that Collins draws the line on dating whores. Unlike Mark.

"_It was my lucky day today on Avenue A, when a lady in a limousine drove my way. She said, 'Darling, be a dear, haven't slept in a year. I need your help to make my neighbor's yappy dog disappear.'" That's awful! Angel helped kill a doggy? That's oddly cruel. Why does no one else think it's oddly cruel? Hey…that beat's kinda catchy…_

"'_This Akita, Evita, just won't shut up.'" …But…But…Akitas don't bark excessively. Is this lady an idiot or does she really hate her neighbors? "I believe if you play nonstop that pup will breath its very last high-strung breath." AND IT WAS A PUPPY? Someone ought to notify PETA. And how does insulting Angel's playing persuade her to help you? "I'm certain that cur will bark itself to death." Um…I don't think you can literally BARK yourself to death. Exert yourself so much that you have a heart attack, yes, but not literally barking yourself to death. And this lady just randomly drove by a drum-playing drag queen with an offer to murder a poor innocent puppy? I thought rich people were scared of drag queens. Perhaps Angel just wasn't in drag at the time. But still! The puppy! That's not very charitable, killing someone's dog on Christmas._

"_Today for you, tomorrow for me. Today for you, tomorrow for me. We agreed on a fee, $1000 guarantee, tax free, and a bonus if I trim her tree." Wait, so she's waiting until Christmas to decorate? I must be missing something here. And is that $1000 total, or $1000 as a guarantee?_

"_Now who could foretell that it would go so well?" Well? WELL? She calls killing a poor innocent puppy WELL? "But sure as I am here that dog is now in doggy hell." I don't believe that. People consider it evil to just KICK innocent puppies, never mind about KILLING them, and besides, didn't she see that movie __All Dogs Go To Heaven_

"_After an hour, Evita, in all her glory…" Wait, wait, wait…She was playing for an HOUR? Was she honestly not going to stop until that poor dog died? That monster! "On the window ledge of that 23__rd__ story. Like __Thelma and Louise__ did when they got the blues, swan-dove into the courtyard of the Gracie Mews. Today for you, tomorrow for me, today for you, tomorrow for me." Okay, just because Angel's now doing an incredible dance number and drum solo on the pipes doesn't mean that I'm just going to forget about poor Evita-Oh, my, wow. That is FLEXIBLE. Collins looks thrilled beyond compare. I sure hope those pipes don't burst, because I'm not going to be the one not paying for it if it does._

"_Back on the street where I met my sweet," Angel continues. Wait, she met Collins after this? Seeing as how I looked all around the neighborhood last night and couldn't find Collins, I cleverly deduce that all of this actually took place YESTERDAY. Why couldn't she have just said that? _(A/N: Perhaps because Tune Up #1-La Vie Boheme B all takes place on Christmas Eve in the Broadway Musical which the song was written for?)

"_Where he was moaning and groaning on the cold concrete." At this, Collins makes a face at Roger and I and shakes his head while Roger makes use of his laughing-at-the-misery-of-his-close-friends privileges._

"_The nurse took him home for some Mercurochrome." Okay, I don't entirely know what that means, and so I will assume it means wild sex. And is Angel the nurse? Why is she referring to herself in the third person if that is the case?_

"_Then I dressed his wounds and got him back on his feet." So, that totally makes it sound like the nurse and Angel are not the same person, but in that case who is the nurse and what happened to him/her?_

"_Sing it! Today for you, tomorrow for me!" Angel doesn't seem to notice the three of us completely ignoring her instructions, so focused is she on being awesome. Though a puppy-killer._

"_Today for you, tomorrow for me. I say, today for you, tomorrow for me. Today for you, tomorrow for me!" Angel finishes with a flourish._

"_That was dope." Poor Roger, withdrawals' over and done with, and he's _**still**_ got drugs on his mind._

"That was fresh," I say, clearly having laundry detergent on mine.

_Before Collins could question this (or make out with Angel, whichever), the phone rang. You know, we should probably leave a longer time to pick up the phone, but since we never answer it anyway, why bother?_

"_SPEAK."_

"_Mark. Hi." Oh crap, it's Maureen! Does that mean we have to add her to our list of people we don't like who call us? It's me. Maureen." I know. I dated you for a bloody half a lifetime. "Look I have a bit of a problem. I really need your help. I hired Joanne as my production manager…" I know. I read the article. Don't rub it in. "And I don't think she knows what the hell she's doing." Then why did you hire her? And what did you want me to do about it? You fired me, remember? Wait…YOU'RE _**PAYING**_ HER?_

"_If you could just-Please, baby, come to the performance space." Oh, I'm 'baby', again, am I? Don't answer the phone, don't answer the phone, don't answer the-_

"_Hey, Maureen. Hi."_

"_Hi, baby." This is awkward._

"_Sure, I'll be there."_

"_Thank you." Wow, she's being polite. She must feel REALLY awkward. And, if I believed her capable of the emotion, I'd say she felt guilty, too._

"_Okay."_

"…_Thank you." Maureen tried again. You're welcome, just say you're welcome!_

"_Okay, see you soon," I hang up. "Can you believe her? I mean, first she just dumps_

_me-"_

"_Maureen dumped you?" Collins asked, confused. Wait, so the WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD doesn't know this by now? Wow, I should really put up some flyers._

"_Yes, she dumped me. For a lawyer named Joanne." At this Collins tries his best not to crack up, but fails miserably. Ah well, he hasn't backstabbed us recently and is GIVING us things instead of trying to take them, so he can do that. "Now she wants me to help her fix her sound equipment."_

"Well, Mark, you could've said no," Collins pointed out. Right. Like ANYONE can say no to Maureen. Not to mention Roger keeps insisting he needs legal protection and several restraining orders and thus I have to go and meet Joanne. He'd do it himself, but he doesn't leave the house and inviting your ex-girlfriend's girlfriend over to your place is kind of weird.

"_I know, but…"_

"_That's cute. You still love her." How is that cute? That is sad and will most likely have me angsting for the next 59 months!_

"_Yeah, right."_

"_You do." Didn't deny that, denied the cuteness of that._

_Luckily Angel, who's really not so bad once you get past the whole puppy-murderer thing, intervenes. "We have to go."_

_Collins nods. "Wanna go to this gathering?" he asked Roger._

"_Where?" Roger asks, like he'd actually consider it._

"_Life Support."_

"On Christmas?" Um, Roger, hate to break it to you but the holidays have the highest suicide rate of all year.

"_Some people don't have anywhere else to go today," Angel says. I mean, just because we all do, doesn't mean everyone else does. "You should come."_

"_Knock yourselves out."_

_Angel looks up at me. "Mark, everyone's welcome, it's not just for people with AIDS." Did I ever introduce myself? And wait, Collins met this guy, er, girl last night and already told her about Roger? There goes any progress I might have made on getting him to leave the apartment building! I mean, God! I got him on the roof and right outside the building and everything! Now, it is all for naught. Way to go, Collins. Go back to MIT. Besides, he should really know how paranoid Roger is that everyone will automatically be able to tell he has AIDS just by looking at him. And that horrified look on his face means that he is totally taking this as a confirmation of his beliefs._

"_Okay, yeah, I'll be there, but first I got a protest to save," I say, putting my handy-dandy scarf on. Can't leave home without it! Though it does attract some odd looks in July…Ah well, they're just jealous that they don't have such a manly scarf._

"_See? Told you." Collins pantomimes a whip and, my God, that has got to be the best whip impression I have ever seen. But he's still mean! "I'm just playing with you, boy." Ah, no fair, he knows I'm white and thus never know if he means that or not! Not to mention, as a Caucasian, I can't ever do that to him._

"_Well, it's Christmas," I tell Roger. "Don't stay in the house all day."_

_Honestly, I'm not sure why I even bother._

"_Bye," Angel pops back to say to Roger. _

_And I sincerely hope I'm not suddenly turning gay, like Maureen did, when I say that she is so cute! And I love her outfit! And why doesn't Maureen have her legs?_

Note: Review, please! Oh, and I don't think I'll be able to do 'I'll Cover You' because neither Mark nor Roger are there. I'll still do 'Out Tonight,' though. Unless anyone has any ideas?


	6. The Tango: Maureen

Disclaimer: Another Christmas has come and gone and, while I did get some amazing RENT clothing, I still do not have the rights to it.

Note: Sorry it took so long to update, I had computer problems...

Chapter Six: The Tango Maureen

_As I walk towards my fateful meeting of Joanne, I can't help but wonder if Maureen will actually be there. While It's true I've never actually met Joanne, I think I hate her. On principle, of course. Still, I should probably warn her about Maureen and the importance of having good communication. Or maybe just the first one, I can't really be bothered to put in much effort for Maureen's new girlfriend. I remember when Maureen dumped me. It was right in this very performance space…_

_(The … means that I'm going to totally stall and have a flashback instead of going in and risking seeing my ex being cutesy with another girl and not me)_

"_Pookie?" I looked up at the sound of Maureen's voice. I couldn't really stand the nickname, but it WAS Maureen's special nickname for me, and so I tolerated it._

"_Yes?" I asked. "Listen, I just rewired the amplifier, it'll be much louder now."_

"_Uh, that's great Marky, but we need to talk," Maureen was chewing on her bottom lip nervously._

"_Oh my God, you're pregnant!" I stood up too quickly and banged my head on a table. "Ouch! How far along are you?" _

"Um, I don't-" 

"_I'm going to be a father. My God, I don't think I'm ready for this!" I clutched at my heart. "We'll have to start looking for a daycare and planning for college and-"_

"_Mark!" Maureen interrupted. "You're not going to be a father!"_

"_So I'm not the father?" I couldn't believe it. I had always assumed that Maureen was more careful than that when she cheated on me._

"_No, you're not the father because there isn't going to be a baby!"_

"_You're getting an abortion?" My eyes widened. "Murderer! You can't kill our child!"_

"_You're right; I can't kill our child because I'm not pregnant!" Maureen insisted._

"_Are you sure?" I asked._

"_Well, not 100 percent, there's always a chance, but that's not what I wanted to talk to you about."_

"_Then what is it, Maureen?"_

"_You remember Joanne, right?" _

"Uh, no, doesn't ring a bell." 

"_That corporate lawyer I've been mooning over?"_

"_Ah, that," I waved my hand at her. "I can't possibly be expected to keep track of everyone you moon over." _

"Fair point," she conceded. "But listen, it's just that she…I…I think we should take a break." 

"_Find by me," I readily agreed._

"_Um, what?" Maureen looked as if this were not the reaction she was expecting._

"_Sure, why not?" I shrugged. "I mean, I've been working for the past hour and a half."_

"_No, I mean, let's be friends," Maureen tried again._

"_But we _**are**_ friends, Mo. With benefits, remember? Since we were thirteen?"_

"_Yes, Marky, about that…" _

"What?" I asked, hoping against hope that Maureen wasn't going to start talking about her 'feelings.' 

"_Well, it's been an AWFUL long time…"_

"_Oh God, did I forget our anniversary or something?"  
_

_Maureen considered. "Well, yes, actually, but-"_

_I slapped my forehead. "I __knew__ it!"_

"_Wait, if you knew it, why did you forget?"_

"_Roger attacked our alarm clock this morning because it suddenly reminded him of Benny and I overslept."_

"_Well, what about the rest of the days this week?"_

"_Let's see," I ticked them off on my fingers. "Sunday it was our hot plate, I really need to go get another one, Monday it was our glass ceiling, Tuesday it was three coffee mugs, Wednesday your scale, and Thursday it was the toilet, but that was more the sheer amount of Benny's things Roger was disposing of."_

"_Your friend needs __help__," Maureen told me bluntly._

"_Yeah, well, I'm working on it."_

"_Anyway, we're off topic," Maureen told me.  
_

"_What were we talking about again?" I asked._

"_You know what, this isn't working. Here," Maureen thrust a copy of _The Village Voice_ into my hands and stormed off._

_I thumbed through it briefly. "Hey! You're dumping me? Through a magazine article? That is __so__ not cool!"_

_(Well, yeah. Sadly enough that is how it happened and now I've run out of reasons to not go in, so I might as well get this over with.)_

"_Hi," I say as I go in. There are a couple of other people in there, just milling around. There's someone standing on the stage with his back to me and I address myself to him. "Maureen called me to try to come help fix the equipment."  
_

_The figure turns in surprise. "You're Mark?" SHE accuses._

_I wince. Wow. Maureen dumps me for a lesbian and it's not even a feminine lesbian? That somehow just makes it worse…I mean, she's wearing a suit and tie and…SUSPENDERS and…_

"_Maureen said she'd be here," I manage to say lamely._

"_Well, don't hold your breath," Joanne says bitterly. Wow, bitter after only a month of actually dating? Maureen's getting better at this whole manipulating thing, isn't she?  
_

"_This is so typical," I mutter. Still, I'm not sure why, because, thinking back, she never actually said she would. I just kind of assumed that she would. You know, because it's common courtesy. But then, since when has Maureen ever been held back by that?_

"_I told her not to call you," Joanne informed me, as though her shock that I was here and her non-stop glaring were not indication enough._

"_Oh well-" Why is she surprised? She's known Maureen for at least three months now, been her girlfriend for a month, why doesn't she know that Maureen doesn't believe in listening? "Can I help anyway?" I mean, I did leave my nice, freezing apartment for this and am currently missing out on getting a chance to film some people with AIDS who may or not be homeless. _

"_I've hired an engineer." Who is currently not here. And given it's Christmas Day, I doubt you'll get any timely service. And I'm offering to work for free. Engineer's charge, like, 80 bucks just to show up. Wait, Ivy League Lawyer, I forgot. People like that don't have to make it quite so obvious that they have money to burn._

"_Great. Well, nice to have met you then." I'll get your cell number from Maureen and will defer all of Roger's legal problems with stalkers and whatnot to you._

_Just as I'm about to make good my escape…"WAIT!" I stop. Is it just me, or did the two or three other people suddenly just vanish? "He's three hours late."_

_I briefly consider making her beg, but decide, what the hell. It's Christmas. I put my stuff down and go over to the equipment. Before I can ask what the problem is, Joanne suddenly starts singing at me. Is that something she picked up from Maureen and assumed, just because I used to date her, that I held conversations in song, too? I mean, I do and all, but only with Roger and Maureen._

"_The samples won't delay but the cable—"_

"_There's another way. Say something, anything-" Except for-_

"_Test, one, two, three," Joanne sings, looking incredibly bored. Wow, she interrupts my words AND thoughts. She's good. Well, I guess she'd have to be, in order to get a word in edgewise with Maureen._

_I wince again. "Anything but…__that__."_

"_This is weird," Joanne tells me, like I don't already know that._

"_It's weird," I agree. And really, I have more of a right to say that than she does, because I'm the ex in the situation, and she's the girl my girlfriend turned lesbian for._

"_Very weird," Joanne reiterates, just to make conversation. I really don't need this._

"_Fuckin' weird," I say, hoping to shock her by the use of obscenities from such a nice-looking Jewish boy._

_She doesn't look particularly impressed. But then, Maureen swears like a sailor, so perhaps she'd expect that from her ex. She did suddenly storm off, however, singing, "I'm so mad that I don't know what to do. Fighting with microphones, freezing down to my bones, and to top it all off, I'm with you."_

_Yeah, yeah, great. Imagine how I feel. With the way she's been acting, I wonder just what Maureen has been telling her about me. And she could just quit. That's what I would do if I wasn't whipped, after all._

_Well, you know what? Two can play at that game. "Feel like going insane? Got a fire in your brain? And you're thinking of drinking gasoline?" I ask her, heading down to where she is._

_She stops and nods numbly. "As a matter of fact-"_

"_Honey, I know this act. It's called the Tango: Maureen." Then I really whip out the big arm motions. "The Tango: Maureen." Joanne jumped. Wow. This has got to be the first person I've met since arriving in NYC who doesn't engage in dramatic arm movements themselves, or at least are used to other people doing that. Wow, I wonder if this makes her 'normal.' Nah, Maureen'd never stoop that low._

"_It's a dark dizzy merry-go-round. As she keeps you dangling…"_

"_You're wrong," Joanne tells me as she shakes her head and begins to walk away._

"_Your heart she is mangling," I pantomime a Shakespearian actor getting stabbed._

"_It's DIFFERENT with me," Joanne said through gritted teeth. Who's she trying to convince here, me or herself?_

"_And you toss and you turn, 'cause her cold eyes can burn, yet you yearn and you churn and rebound," I continue, persistently following her._

_Abruptly, Joanne stops. "I think I know what you mean."_

"_The Tango: Maureen," we sing in unison._

"_Has she ever pouted her lips and called you 'Pookie?'" Now, I can finally make some progress AND find out if Maureen calls other people her pet name for me._

"_Never," Joanne shakes her head derisively, showing just what she thinks of that name, and starts to walk again._

_Still I follow her, trying to act all knowledgeable when, in truth, I have no clue how she treats her. I only know how she treated me an I'm not sure if I want that to be how she treats Joanne or not. On the one hand, it would prove once and for all that it's not me, it's her, but on the other hand, Maureen was a really bad girlfriend, and I don't think I quite hate Joanne enough to wish that on her._

"_Have you ever doubted a kiss or two?" There, that's generic enough to probably apply. Especially while it was still just an affair._

_Still, Joanne looks very impressed and slightly creeped out. "This is spooky." Although whether this is because I know how my ex-girlfriend who I dated for half of my life tends to treat people or because she is beginning to suspect that I've been stalking her is hard to say._

_Joanne stops again and turns to me, looking suddenly very insecure and like she has a few questions of her own. "Did you swoon when she walked through the door?" _

I nodded. Of course. Like Maureen wouldn't have left and kept entering until I did. "Every time, so be cautious." Refusing to do that can be quite time-consuming. 

"_Did she moon over other boys?"_

_Hell, she mooned over you. Or does she not have a problem with Maureen's lesbian love interests, just as long as she is absolutely a lesbian, and not going through a 'phase', like her parents think. "More than moon."_

"_I'm getting nauseous." Hey, how does she think I felt when I found out Maureen was coming out of the closet? I mean, yes, I was incredibly turned on, and Roger stopped looking emo for a bit, but I was still slightly nauseous._

_All this argue-singing about Maureen was getting me very worked up, so I threw my jacket to the side and raised my eyebrow at her. What now?_

_In turn, she raised her eyebrow at me and tossed her coat to the side, too, just not as far as mine, I couldn't help notice._

_Then we randomly started tangoing. I opened my mouth to ask her why, but then I realized that she'd probably expect me to explain my dramatic arm movements to her. "Where'd you learn to tango?" I asked instead. Like I care._

_She stops mid-dip and considers. "With the French ambassador's daughter in her dorm room at Miss Porter's. And you?"_

_I hesitate. "With…Nanette Himmelfarb, the rabbi's daughter…at the Scarsdale Jewish Community Center."_

"_Uh-huh," Joanne says, and then does some fancy leg-movements and suddenly, I am tangoing backwards._

"_It's…hard to do this backwards," I said. And slightly demeaning._

"_You should try it in heels," Joanne said, annoyed and full of women's-rights sentiment. Then she just drops me while she's dipping me and I hit my head._

_When I open my eyes, I'm in a tuxedo and Joanne's in a little black dress and there are a bunch of couples also dressed up and we're in some sort of fancy dress hall. I wonder if I'm hallucin-Oh my, is that Maureen? She is wearing the hottest red dress and her hair looks amazing and I think I'm starting to drool. Oh, and now she's making out with her dance partner. Oh, and now she's moved on to another girl. New York City had been hope that Maureen never gets mono._

"_She cheated!" Joanne sings, sounding appalled. She'll learn. This is nothing. Wait until she walks into the men's restroom at Denny's and…Oh, well, maybe the women's restroom for her._

"_She cheated," I agreed._

"_Maureen cheated." Still sounding so shocked. I'm guessing her last girlfriend was monogamous?  
_

"_Fuckin' cheated."_

"_I'm defeated, I should give up right now," Joanne confesses. Wow, and after only a month? Breaking someone in only a month is FAST. But then, Maureen's had lots of practice, hasn't she?_

_Still, since her sudden crisis of faith is mostly my fault, I suppose I should really try to fix this. If only so as not to ruin the protest, so as to annoy Benny. "Gotta look on the bright side with all of your might."  
_

"_I'd fall for her still, anyhow." Okay, great, now that we've established that, we're about done here. Oh, wait. Joanne wants to synchronize sing with me._

"_When you're dancing her dance you don't stand a chance. Her grip of romance makes you fall."_

"_So you think 'might as well,'" I begin._

"'_Dance a tango to hell'," Joanne finishes._

_I think I hate her a lot less now that I know that she knows EXACTLY what Maureen put me through. "'At least I'll have tangoed at all," we sing. "The Tango: Maureen. Gotta dance till your diva is through. You pretend to believe her. 'Cause in the end you can't leave her." Really, I've tried. Unfortunately, however, she always started going down on me whenever I did…I wonder if she'll have to employ this technique on Joanne when this is all over._

"_But the end it will come." After all, Maureen's attention span is simply not that long. "Still, you have to play dumb 'till you're glum and you bum and turn blue." _

Oh God, now she's making out with more people. "Why do we love when she's mean?" I ask Joanne. 

"_And she can be so obscene," Joanne agreed. "My Maureen…" She sang, her voice echoing strangely._

"_The Tango: Maureen…" We finish._

"_Mark." Suddenly, I'm on the floor again, back at Maureen's performance space and Joanne, dressed in her boring lawyer outfit, is waving her hand in front of my face. "Mark. Oh, my God. Are you okay?"_

_If she's so concerned, perhaps she shouldn't have knocked me out in the first place. Either way, that was weird. I wonder if that's what taking drugs feels like? Must ask Collins, as I don't want to accidently tempt Roger. I can't take another half a year of withdrawal from him. Plus we actually have to pay for rehab._

"_Actually," I say, smiling, as she helps me to my feet. "I feel great now."_

"_I feel lousy," Joanne muses as I go back up to Maureen's equipment. I look at it for about two seconds and then flip a switch._

"_And we're patched."_

"_Thanks," Joanne says, sounding grateful, but slightly embarrassed that she couldn't figure out to flip one freaking switch._

_Then, the phone rings. Joanne answers it. "Maureen?"_

_Funny, most people answer the phone 'hello.'_

"_Hi baby," I can hear Maureen's voice though the phone. Some people you can always here from the other end of the telephone and Maureen is one of them._

"_Hi, honey, we're-" Joanne begins, but seeing as how she was just talking to me, someone who always lets other people have their turn to talk, she isn't quite fast enough to finish her sentence before Maureen interrupts her._

"_Pookie." And there it is. Joanne just froze up and, I swear, it was the funniest thing._

" '_Pookie'?" She echoes, in shock. Man, I'm good. "You never called me pook-"_

"_We're late." Yet another interruption. It's almost as though Maureen doesn't actually care what anyone else has to say. And duh, of course they're late. We've both realized that. And I know it's polite to call when you're late, but it's more polite to do that BEFORE you've driven your girlfriend to the verge of insanity. _

"_Forget it. We're patched," Joanne said, apparently deciding that it's just not worth it to get into her issues with Maureen on the phone when she could hang up at any time until she's had time to practice some tongue-twisters or something._

"_Thank you."_

"_Pookie," I say as Joanne hangs up._

"_Shut up," she says, glaring at me and my awesome prediction skills of DOOM!_

_Just like, right now, I predict that Roger's new stalker won't let him get away with ignoring her invitation. Oh, no indeed…It's really a good thing I take my camera everywhere. I wouldn't want to miss any of this._

_And whatever happened to that engineer?_

Review Please!


	7. Life Support

Chapter Seven: Life Support

Disclaimer: I do not own RENT.

Note: Sorry it's so short, but that song is short, so there's not much I can do there…

_Okay, now I'm not entirely sure what I just couldn't take my bike, but apparently I couldn't be bothered as I am now running, yes running, down the street to the Life Support meeting, looking quite ridiculous._

_It's probably already over, but still, at least I can meet up with Collins and Angel. I entered the building and…Unbelievable. Un frickin believable. They're still introducing themselves! Either they randomly decide to introduce themselves at the end of the meeting, so as to preserve anonymity (which really wouldn't work if there are any introductions at all) or Collins and Angel TOTALLY lied to me about needing to hurry. _

_I try to come in quietly, but when I put my equipment down, the noise is very loud and, naturally, everyone turns to stare at the clumsy Jewish boy who just met his ex-girlfriend's new girlfriend. "Sorry. Excuse me," I say, hoping that they'll just stop staring at me._

"_And you are…?" the leader person asks me. Damn. No such luck._

"_Oh, I'm not-"Dying a horrible painful death. No, can't say that. "I don't have-" AIDS, but I turned my girlfriend into a lesbian and everyone I know WITH AIDS are getting more action than me doesn't work either. "I'm here with-"That might have worked, as Angel waved to me with his…her…Angel's not in drag! Does that mean I should refer to Angel as a guy? Whatever, I'll do it anyway._

_Anyway, like I was saying, Angel was waving his pinky at me to acknowledge that he knew me, but Collins was trying to melt into his seat, so I don't think he'd appreciate that very much… "I'm just here to-" Videotape you all for my documentary which I'll get around to finishing during the next decade or so, when none of you will be around except maybe the Leader-Guy who probably doesn't have AIDS or else they'd have to find a new one every few months. Yeah, that doesn't work either. Perhaps I should just answer the question. That is, if I can even speak while my foot is jammed so far down my throat._

"_Mark. Mark." Not sure why I felt the need to say that twice, but might as well make it a third. "I'm Mark." This is SO awkward. Roger can never find out or I will NEVER live it down. And Roger will die laughing at me, thus making my taking care of him a complete and total waste! Plus that fangirl of his'll be pissed, I guess._

"_Well, this is quite an operation," I said. Then I realized that that made it sound like they were a drug ring or something. Which wasn't a good plan because needle-sharing probably led to some of these people getting AIDS and…Oh god. I hope Roger comes out of his hermit stage soon, so I can go back to our apartment and never EVER leave it. Ever again._

"_Does anyone have a problem if I film a little of this for a documentary?" I mean, granted it's not very ethical and people probably don't want the tale of how they got AIDS to be made public when most of the country thinks that AIDS is God's way of saying 'I Hate You.'_

_Everyone glances around, probably wondering why I'm even asking that or why I even bothered to come since I don't have AIDS and my friends are pretending they don't know me._

"_Make yourself comfortable, Mark," the leader instructed me. "Who wants to begin?"_

_Now, nobody said anything at first, probably fearing my camera, but then one guy opened his mouth and…another guy said, "Well, I'm-"_

_Okay, this guy doesn't seem like he knows what he wants to say. Did he just want to beat the other guy to be the first to go? I smell some drama, some tension. A rivalry…very riveting._

_The guy begins again. "Yesterday…" Oh god, not another false start. "I found out my T cells were low."_

"_What was your reaction?" the Leader asked. Um, hello, what does he THINK the reaction would be? SHIT._

"_Scared," the guy said, clearly censoring himself in front of the nice Jewish Boy with the camera and lack of social skills._

"_How are you feeling today? Right now?" the Leader asked. First of all, it's only been a day, so probably still scared. Secondly, I should make a note to come earlier to the next meeting so I don't have to refer to everybody as 'the leader' or 'the guy'. I mean, what if another guy speaks up? Roger already named his ex-drug dealer 'The Man,' so I just don't know what I'd do…_

"_Okay. Alright." Clearly the guy just let's things roll right off him. "Pretty good."_

"_Is that all?" the Leader asked greedily, as if three different answers weren't enough for him._

"_It's the best I've felt in a long time. Months." Wow, that's a far cry from 'okay.' Unless, of course, he's been feeling like…well, like he's dying, for the past few months._

"_Then why choose fear?" the Leader asked. Um, hate to break it to you, Leader-Dude, but most people don't CHOOSE to feel afraid. Being afraid of death is more instinctual than anything else._

_The Guy clearly shared my sentiments as he just looked at the Leader as though he were crazy and said, "I'm a New Yorker." And clearly he thinks that the Leader is an idiot, seeing as how he had to explain where we were. "Fear's my life."_

_Made sense. Then he started singing, which did NOT make sense, but whatever. "Look, I find some of what you teach suspect." Wait? They're teaching something? Should I have paid a fee or…? "Because I'm used to relying on intellect." You totally can't begin a sentence with 'Because'! Maybe I'm picky, though. And, come to think of it, perhaps Roger would have better luck writing a song somewhere that I'm not around to offer grammatical assistance._

"_Relying on intellect." Though clearly not in a Language Arts area. "But I try to open up to what I don't know." You can't start a sentence with but, either! "Because reason says I should have died three years ago…" Yeah, another because at the beginning. And is it just me, or was that Roger I heard just now? But…he's not even here! How…Oh, right. I forgot I stopped asking those kinds of questions once we got that most-likely-radioactive stone from Benny._

_Now everyone is joining in. Except me. Because I'm just the cameraman. "There's only us. There's only this." Although what exactly 'this' is escapes me. The meeting, perhaps? And who constitutes as 'us'? Just the people in the room? That's kind of a limited understanding of the world, isn't it? "Forget regret, or life is yours to miss." That's actually good advice. If only I could use it to forget Maureen. _

"_No other road." Wait, did I miss something? Since when did a road have to do with anything they were just singing about? I bet they're totally making fun of me… "No other way. No day but today!"_

_And tomorrow. Although I suppose that by the time we actually get to tomorrow, it will turn into today, but…Now my head hurts…_

_To Be Continued…_

_  
R&R_


	8. Out Tonight

Chapter Eight: Out Tonight

Disclaimer: I do not own RENT.

Note: I realized that Mark or Roger weren't actually in Out Tonight, but I managed to get around that.

"_Remind me again why you're dragging two gay men into a strip club," Collins said as he ordered another drink._

"_Because I need to know everything about everyone and stalking Roger's fangirl will help me out in my noble quest for knowledge," I explained. Collins snorted. "Well it will! And Roger would get annoyed and emoer if he knew I was doing this, so if you guys come with me, then we can tell Roger that the meeting just ran late." Collins still looked unconvinced. "Oh come on, it's just this once! Besides, Angel's having fun."_

_It was true. Angel was waving enthusiastically to one of the dancers. "Mimi's on next," she, back in drag, gushed. "I am so excited! I taught her everything she knows, you know."_

"_I'm not sure how I feel about that," I remarked._

"_I am," Collins said, beginning to drool._

_Suddenly, there were catcalls and so we looked up at the stage. A girl kicked her leg high in the air and then someone thought to turn the stage light on so we could see properly. Seeing properly is very important. I mean, we totally had to avoid paying twenty dollars to get in here; we'd better be able to see this. The girl, apparently Mimi, smiled and kicked again, holding onto a poll for support. _

_I wonder how Roger would react to the three of us going to go see his future girlfriend pole-dancing. She proceeded to pole-dance for a bit longer, and then decided to burst into song for some reason. Now, I don't come to strip clubs often (mostly because Maureen cheats on everyone so often that she's become the insanely jealous type), but do people really come to places like the Cat Scratch Club to get an impromptu concert?_

"_What's the time?" Mimi asked. Why does she want to know that? Couldn't she have just looked at a clock backstage or something if she really wanted to know. Maybe keep a watch on her dressing table? "Well, it's gotta be close to midnight," she answered her own question. I HATE rhetorical questions. With a passion. I mean, they're not so bad if the person who asks them quickly answers them, but if they don't then I usually end up looking like an idiot for not realizing that it was rhetorical and answering it. And why does it matter if it's close to midnight? Is that when her shift ends or something?_

_She took off her leopard-covering-thinging and did another unbelievably high kick. Why doesn't Roger want to date her again? "My body's talking to me, it says, 'Time for danger.'_

_Okay, first of all, when your body is talking to you, that means either one of two things. First, it could mean that you're THINKING, but if this girl doesn't know that than she is an _**idiot**_. Could possibly explain Roger's reluctance. And Angel would still be her friend, because Angel is the closest thing to a saint in NY. Which is odd, as I'm sure the Church has some sort of an issue with cross-dressing homosexuals._

_If Mimi's not quite that stupid, than it probably means that she's schizophrenic. Which would also not be good for someone as emo as Roger. Hm, could Roger have some survival instincts? Will wonders never cease? Anyway, what I want to know is, why are the voices in your head always out to get you? I mean, they're all very malicious and want you to go get yourself or someone else killed. Couldn't just once there be a nice voice that says, 'Oh, don't evict your friends from their decrepit apartment and turn their power off on Christmas Eve'? Maybe there are, and we just don't feel the need to medicate for them, and tack on the name 'Conscience.'_

_If that is the case, Benny and Maureen are officially the sanest people I know. That is very, very sad._

_Twisting down the stairs, Mimi continues, "It says I wanna commit a crime. Wanna be the cause of a fight. I wanna put on a tight skirt and flirt with a stranger."_

_Oh, God. This is really starting to creep me out. Sounds like she's taking her body's advice and going to bother Roger._

"_I've had a knack from way back, at breaking the rules once I learn the game," Mimi said, smacking herself on the ass. Note to self: never play scrabble with Mimi. Maureen's the exact same way, and to this day I refuse to believe that "frindle" is a real word._

"_So get up, life's too quick." For what, sitting? Wouldn't your feet get tired after awhile? "I know someplace sick, where this chick'll dance in the flames." So, wait…She's going to be accused of witchcraft and burnt at the stake? Well, she probably wouldn't be tied to the stake, or else that would probably make dancing rather difficult. This girl is officially an odd duck._

"_We don't need any money," Mimi claims, but I don't think that really matters. She's getting all these tips from guys and they guys have money to throw away, so clearly it's not an issue. Also, of course she wouldn't need money. Who charges someone to get themselves burned alive? Puritans, maybe. "I always get in for free." Wait, always? She's done this before? WITCH! WITCH! BURN THE WITCH! Oh, wait…Right. Never mind then. Just having a blonde moment._

"_You can get in too, if you get in with me. Let's go." Uh, no thanks. I'm staying here for what I'd like to call 'Safety.'_

"_Out tonight. I have to go out tonight." Great, thanks for telling us. "You wanna play?" No, I already told you, I refuse to play ANYTHING with you, now that you officially revealed to us that you're a big fat cheater. "Let's run away." Hm, hide and seek? If you're one of the people playing and not in you can't cheat, I think. Unless, of course, you move and hide somewhere they already checked. But I suppose then you always run the risk of getting caught doing so. And let me tell you, Roger takes his hide and seek VERY seriously._

"_We won't be back before it's New Year's Day." Oh geez, where's she planning on hiding, Brooklyn? I don't have a long enough attention span for that! I suppose I could always stand at a bus stop and watch people. And then film them. But if I'm away for a week, then Roger will surely die of starvation, lack of water, and lack of AZT by the time I get back. And emo-ness. Emo-ness is pretty deadly, too. And being a hermit, he could die of boredom, and-Dear Lord! TOO MANY POSSIBILITIES! _

"_I will never abandon Roger, you foul temptress!" I say, perhaps a little loudly._

_Everyone around me is giving me odd looks and Collins takes that moment to look for loose change under the table, covering his head with my jacket so as to be able to see without all that blinding light from the stage._

_Angel just pats me on the back sympathetically and says, "I'm sure you won't."_

_Mimi must've heard me, but valiantly continues as if she didn't, undeterred. "Take me out tonight. Meow." Wait, now she's part cat? This girl is getting sexier and sex-er, stranger and stranger._

_Someone hands her a drink and she takes some guys hat and puts it on (all the while accepting copious tips, mind you) and then, to my shock, just walks off the stage, grabs her coat from Angel, and leaves in the middle of her song. _

"_Um, can she do that?" I ask._

_Angel shrugs. "I don't see why not. It's her show. Besides, it's midnight and they don't pay overtime."_

"_When I get a wink from the doorman, do you know how lucky you'll be?"_

_No, Mimi. No, I don't. Why don't you explain to me how a doorman winking at you and probably ogling you all night instead of doing his job and making people pay makes anyone who got in free because they agreed to come with you lucky?_

"_That you're on line with the feline of Avenue B." Oh, so she wasn't talking about the doorman. But then, why did she even mention him if she wasn't talking about him? I think I'm confused again. Whatever. Mimi's no longer here and now Angel is getting bored and Collins is still under the table and my head hurts, so we might as well stalk Mim-er, head back, too._

_When we get outside, I realize that Mimi is indeed very badass, as she CROSSES THE STREET WITHOUT LOOKING BOTH WAYS AND NEARLY GETS RUN OVER!_

When I remark upon this, Angel looks dutifully impressed, but Collins snorted.

"_What?" I asked defensively._

"_Dude, you're a Jewish filmmaker with glasses. What do you know about badass?" he asked rhetorically. I could tell it was a rhetorical question because I wasn't entirely sure how to answer._

"_Let's go out tonight." Okay, so either Mimi realizes that we're following her (which, by the way, is impossible because I am an expert at stalking people. Or, at least I WOULD be. If I stalked people. Which I don't. What does Roger know, anyway? He hasn't left the apartment in half a year!) or she's talking to herself again. Typical. All the good ones are crazy._

"_I have to go out tonight. You wanna prowl? Be my night owl?" NO, YOU SIC K AND TWISTED FIEND! I will not let you turn me or my companions into your familiar! Maybe Roger, though. I dunno, he'd get out of the apartment for a change, so the benefits could outweigh the costs, there. Plus, she just got, like, 500 bucks, so she could probably pay me for him and then I could hoard the money and pointedly not give it to prodigal friends of ours who fancies himself our landlord. I am in awe of her mad scarf skills, too, so that's another point in her favor. On the other hand, losing Roger would mean no more gay rumors, which would mean my sex appeal would take a nosedive._

"_Well, take my hand we're gonna howl! Out tonight." Wait, owls don't howl. I think. OMG, werewolves do, though! So, basically, if Roger so much as holds her hand, then she'll turn him into a flying owl-werewolf! Oh, the humanity! Hm, on the other hand, Ripley would probably pay big bucks for this. Or Buzzline._

"_In the evenings I've got to roam," Mimi sang, entering her room. Wow, she was just outside a minute ago. Ah! Mimi can teleport! That's further proof of her sorcery! And VAMPIRES DON'T SLEEP AT NIGHT! AH!!!!!!! What has poor Roger gotten himself into?_

"_Can't sleep in the city of neon and chrome. Feels too damn much like home when the Spanish babies cry." Or, she could just say 'I can't sleep in New York City because it's loud.' But NOOOO that's not poetic and spell-like enough for little Miss Mimi, now is it? And do you want to know WHY those babies are crying? Probably because their surrounded by WITCHES and EVIIIIIIIIIIIL!_

_Then Mimi opened up the fire escape and went outside. I know most people are probably wondering how I know what Mimi was doing inside her house when Angel, Collins, and I are all hiding behind a building so Mimi won't notice us and we can hear the end of her song. Well, not to worry, it's not witchcraft, it's Benny's rock. Which could one day cause cancer and kill us, but Roger doesn't care as he won't live long enough to be killed by cancer anyway._

"_So let's find a bar, so dark we forget who we are."_

"_Where all the scars from the nevers and maybes die! Let's go out tonight! I have to go out tonight!" Mimi said, balancing precariously on the railing of the fire escape between her apartment and mine and Roger's. Oh, is she going up there? Yes! She is, now she's climbing the stairs to the apartment. This is gonna be good…_

"Out tonight. You're sweet wanna hit the street? Wanna wail at the moon like a cat in heat?"

What the? Mimi? Why is she singing on the fire escape? Oh well, as long as she's not bothering me and my mad guitar-playing skills. Musetta's Waltz: I will have you yet!

Mimi's voice is getting closer, so I reluctantly turn around. Mimi is shout-singing RIGHT OUTSIDE MY WINDOW! And fogging up the glass. "Just take me out tonight."

Just take her out? Where's this coming from? I feel like I might be missing something here? And what about me and my needs? Like my need to be left alone to wallow in my emo-ness, attended to only by Mark who, by all accounts, is the Mrs. Lovett's to my Sweeney Todd. Hm, by that logic, if I ever get around to leaving the apartment I should go around talking to all the homeless people I can find just in case April's not really dead. I mean, Mark's too Jewish to lie, and he said she slit her wrists, but never said that she died!

But that's a topic for another time, as now Mimi is barging into my apartment and singing, "Please take me out tonight!" How polite. My answer is still no.

"Don't forsake me," she says, doing something strange with her hair. Now, while I'm sure she's very encourage by my incredulous stare at her, the truth is, she may be half-naked, but right now I'm more concerned about why she's here and why she can't seem to take a hint. And if Mark ever got that Joanne's number so I can prosecute for her blatant breaking-and-entering.

"Out tonight." What, is that some kind of subliminal message or something? I mean, I can tell she wants something, but she's being so subtle that, so help me, I just can't figure out what it is.

"I'll let you make me." Make her what? I can't sleep with her, I have AIDS and she's a stripper who would probably spread it to innumerous people, so that would hardly be ethical. What I need to do is pull a Collins and find someone hot with AIDS. Not that I'm saying Angel is hot or anything, because I'm straight, but she is damn cute in drag, I'll giver her that. And besides, if she's letting me do something, it's hardly making her.

"Out tonight." Now she's climbing on the table. On MY table. Where I am sitting. With my guitar. This does not look good.

"Tonight." Oh god, she's getting closer. I would move, but I appear to be petrified. Is this chick a Wiccan or something? "Tonight. Tonight." She then pulls out the bag of drugs she reclaimed from me yesterday and shoves it in my face before kissing me and putting the drugs in my hair.

In the bag still, of course, or else I would beat her to death with my guitar for getting my hair addicted to heroin.

Anyway, I should probably be ending the kiss, but she's hot, and half-naked, and nineteen and…Gimme a minute here…

To Be Continued…


	9. Another Day

Chapter Nine: Another Day

Disclaimer: I still do not own RENT.

Note: I did, however, FINALLY get a chance to see it live. And it was amazing, of course, even if Angel and Mimi were suddenly African-American when Out Tonight makes it pretty clear Mimi's Hispanic. And Mimi's mother's use of Spanish in Voice Mail #5.

After a few seconds, I managed to pull myself away. "Who do you think you are? Barging in on me and my guitar." I mean, honestly, at least the other fangirls were so enthralled so as to not bother me when I was playing. Come to think of it, that's probably why I decided to take up the guitar again, because Mark hadn't gotten me in touch with Joanne yet. I put my guitar protectively in front of me before continuing. Fangirls are known to get quite violent at the rejection part.

"Little girl, hey, the door is that way," I said, helpfully indicating the door. Mimi, for her part, looked quite confused. I wonder if that's because I called her a little girl when I'm only a few years older than she is. Ah, well, she's just lucky she put that heroin away or I'd dump it in the streets where rats could get it and get high so I could watch them go through withdrawal because that would be cool. I mean, can rats even throw up?

"You better go, you know, the fire's out anyway," I informed her. Mark had left awhile ago and I simply can't be bothered to do such menial tasks as put more wood in our illegal wood-burning stove. If I wanted to live a life with such basic comforts as heat on Christmas, I wouldn't have run away to the magical land of Bohemia. Although, come to think of it, frostbite sucks. We really shouldn't have to deal with it in our own apartment. When Mark gets back, I'm going to have to ask him to go find a fangirl of mine to donate a heater to our apartment. Shouldn't be too hard, after all, everyone knows frozen hair is SO not sexy.

"Take your powder." Because if you don't and I accidentally get rats addicted to heroin, PETA will kill me and then you'll have a negative chance of getting together with me. Seriously, though. This girl is behind the times. Bringing me drugs stopped working after April died. "Take your candle." That you felt the need to leave in my apartment since yesterday, which meant you had to go find another candle with which to do your drugs with.

"Your sweet whisper, I just can't handle!" I explained to her. Happy fluffy romances aren't exactly conducive to angsty songwriting.

"Well, take your hair in the moonlight…" No, don't want to finish that though. Hopefully she'll think I'm referencing yesterday's songfest, not daydreaming about her. "Your brown eyes," I added, in order to further convince her. "Goodbye, good night," I said, helpfully going over to open the door, so she won't have to bother and can leave faster.

Once the door is open, I realized that if I don't explain to her my many reasons for not wanting a relationship right now (such as the fact she's a heroin addict and I used to be one and so totally DON'T need that around me all the time, I have AIDS, don't leave the house, and my last girlfriend traumatized me by killing herself in my bathroom. I couldn't go in there for WEEKS. To Mark's incredible annoyance once the smell got so bad he had to go out and obtain such bourgeois things as 'air fresheners.'). "I should tell you, I should tell you, I should tell you, I should tell you, I should—" Then I felt Mimi touch my shoulder and remembered that it was none of her damn business and if this got out, Mark wouldn't be able to use my fangirls to get free stuff after I died. "No!"

"Another time, another place," I told her spinning around. "Our temperature would climb; there'd be a long embrace." Especially since if we were in another place such as, say, Santa Fe, then I wouldn't even need a damn heater and wouldn't be currently freezing to death. Oh, and I suppose we could get together, too.

"We'd do another dance." Perhaps the tango, like Maureen's ex-boyfriend and new girlfriend did in the community center. "It'd be another play." One where half of the main characters aren't dying from AIDS. Well, a little more than half, as I refuse to count Benny as a main character. I mean, he's in, what, six scenes? He doesn't even get a speaking part in three of them! But he does get two messages, so that evens out, I guess.

I went over to the table, picked my guitar up, and sang, "Looking for romance? Come back another day. Another day." There that should do it. Give her hope so she can leave and bug me later when I can be bothered to explain to her why I'm waiting for some hot chick with AIDS so I don't kill my potential girlfriend. Well, now that that's settled, I'm going to sit down and wait for her to leave.

She doesn't. "The heart may freeze. Or it can burn," Mimi informs me. Really? I've heard of heartburn before, but heartfreeze has strangely eluded me. Maybe awesomeness makes you immune to it. I should probably ask Mark if he's heard of it, then.

"The pain will ease, if I can learn." Wait, what pain? Does she have frostbite from singing outside without her coat or something? And learn what? It's a good thing Mark's not here, or he'd keep correcting her until we were here all night. "There is no future, there is no past." Oh, so she's one of those, every day is today kind of people. Although I find it odd that she's spouting off philosophy when she clearly just came here to get high with me and maybe get laid.

"I live this moment as my last." You know, that's great advice if you're dying from a fatal disease. I should really consider following it if I ever decide to stop being a hermit. Then, she decided to climb across my table. Again. God, does she have a table fetish of something? "There's only us, there's only this." Only the two of us and only this apartment? Wow, that's a very narrow world-view, isn't it? "Forget regret or life is yours to miss." What makes you think I regret anything? For all you know, I enjoy mooching off of society and refusing to leave the house, forcing my friends to supply me with all the basic necessities in life. I mean, being an ex-addict kinda sucks, and I'd rather April chose to kill herself in her own damn bathroom, but, hell, you can't have everything.

"No other road, no other way. No day but today," Mimi finished grandly, smiling and sure she'd won me over. I don't entirely understand what in the world she's talking about, though, so I'm sure that drastically reduces its effectiveness. I mean, no other road to where? No other way to do what?

Being confused makes me feel like Mark, and feeling like Mark annoys me greatly, because since he's the only person I talk to on a regular bases, considering Maureen's off in Maureen-land, Benny's sold his son to Satan, and Collins will probably get fired from NYU and go someplace warm within the year, and so if I were him then I'd be schizophrenic. "Excuse me, if I'm off track, but if you're so wise, then tell me: Why do you need smack?" Valid question, that. I mean, I was always too high to answer whenever Mark asked me that. Collins was always spouting off about 'enlightenment' when he was high. Is that why no one's riding him to give up on Marijuana?

Mimi looks hurt, but if she has any hope of us working out, she needs to stop offering me drugs. I stood up and grabbed Mimi's arm and escorted her to the door, as she didn't seem particularly inclined to leave anytime soon. "Take your needle, take your fancy prayer." Well, at least that's what I think she was doing. Either that or trying to induct me into some type of cult that would involve me leaving the house and paying membership dues. I don't really know much about cults. Mark was in one, once, but they kicked him out for not being cool enough. And Collins was in one, but they kicked him out for refusing to follow the cult authority, as it apparently went against his philosophical beliefs of anarchy. Maureen tried to join a cult, but Mark wouldn't let her. Something about how she cheated on him enough as it is WITHOUT being in one. "Don't forget, get the moonlight out of your hair!"

Mimi wrenched her arm away and stormed out of my apartment. I stayed at the door, as I didn't want to encourage her, but wasn't done yelling at her yet. "Long ago you might have lit up my heart, but the fire's dead, ain't never ever gonna start!" Then, as Mimi was heading down the stairs, I was forced to follow her down if I wanted her to hear me.

"Another time, another place, the words would only rhyme, we'd be in outer space." Because, in an alternate universe, we could be poets, or astronauts, or poet-astronauts in space. "It'd be another song, we'd sing Another Way." Instead of singing Another Day. "You wanna prove me wrong? Come back another day. Another day!" I stopped at her floor, but Mimi kept right on going.

Dear Lord, did I just chase her out of the building? Guess, I'd better go yell at her from the balcony, then.

_While Angel and Collins were shamelessly flirting, I was keeping an eye out for any sign of Mimi or Roger. Sure enough, before too long, Mimi stormed outside, without a coat, merely pulling her sleeves down to protect her from the cold._

_Good going Roger. She lives in the SAME BUILDING, and you still kicked her out? But wait, she doesn't seem all that upset. In fact, she's still singing. It sounds different than before, though. Are she and Roger in the middle of a duet? Sounds promising. After all, April couldn't sing and look what happened with her._

"_There's only yes. Only tonight. We must leg go. To know what's right," Mimi sang, actually deigning to look both ways before crossing the street this time. And let go of what? I mean, God knows Roger has a whole host of issues he needs to resolve, but what does Mimi need to let go off? Sigh. Guess I'll have to run that background check after all. I mean, geez, Roger singing with her? This is huge! He never sings with fangirls._

"_No other course, no other way. No day but today…" Mimi trailed off. Hm? Course? Is she trying to get Roger to tutor her or something? That's classy enough, as far as hookups go, but if the relationship turns sour, you need to find a new tutor. Not to mention, of course, that the rampant sex makes it rather difficult to focus on lessons. I mean, just look what happened when I tried to teach Maureen the electric cello. We got so little done, we don't even count it as something she's studied._

_Suddenly, Roger ran out onto the balcony. ALSO without a jacket! This is true love here, true love!_

_Angel tugs on my sleeve. "Hey Mark, can we go say hi to Mimi and tell her how lovely her show was?"_

"_Um, sure. But we can't just interrupt their song," I pointed out._

_Angel looked shocked. "I would never do something so heinous!" Says the puppy-killer. "And, besides, we don't have to, we'll simply join in."  
_

"_And you don't think they'd mind? This seems kind of private."_

_Collins snorted. "Yeah, you can tell how private something is by checking to what lengths Mark's going to spy on it and film it for future occasions."_

"_Oh, nonsense, everyone loves a sing-along!" Angel insisted perkily before I could yell at Collins. I did glare at him very menacingly, though, and I think he was very impressed._

"_I can't control…" Mimi sang, with the three of us accompanying her and walking out from behind the building, acting for all the world as if we'd just gotten there and had totally already showed Angel Benny's rock and not totally ignoring their privacy by standing there the whole time._

"_Control your temper," Roger tells himself, turning away embarrassed and clearly seeing right through us._

"_My destiny!" We continue, very dramatically. Mimi somehow fails to notice us, however. Wow, this girl is DEDICATED._

_  
"She doesn't See," Roger informs us. Roger's reason-of-the-week he won't go out and get a girlfriend is that since no one understands him, he'd need a psychic so he wouldn't have to bother to explain to her all about his angsty angstiness of angst._

"_I trust my soul," we continue, completely ignoring him. I wonder what we trust our soul with? Ah! The royal we!_

"_Who says that there's a soul?" Roger asked, just to be contrary._

"_My only goal," we persist. Wait, I have a goal? Oh, right, movie. Ah well, I'm not dying of a lethal disease, so no hurry. "Is just to be!" With that, Mimi raises her arms above her head under the moonlight in a very witch-like manner. I'm suddenly on Roger's side, now, but can't very well change the dynamic of the song now, can I? Besides, it's all very symbolic, what with Roger facing off against his friends who wants what's best for him and this girl who thinks he's hot._

_  
"Just let me be!" Roger cries, desperately trying not to turn into a vampire or something. I can tell Mimi's trying to turn him into a vampire because girls apparently think vampires are sexy. I will never understand why. I mean, they brutally murder people by impaling their necks with their freakishly long nothing-a-few-years-of-braces-won't-fix fangs and sucking their lifeblood from one of the most vital and vulnerable parts of their body. How is that sexy? Then again, I'm straight, so I guess I wouldn't be able to tell. And another thing! They're centuries old and undead. They can't possibly smell very nice._

_Like Roger didn't after April…Oh God! Maybe he's already a vampire and that's why her spell isn't working! From now on, I'm not-buying plenty of bloody steaks so he doesn't have to resort to murdering me in my sleep for a midnight snack. And for the record, I'm officially back on Mimi's side. These mythical creatures are clearly perfect for each other._

"_Who do you think you are?" Roger demands suddenly, as if one of us has suddenly been rendered amnesiac or is experiencing bouts of delusions where we think we're Teddy Roosevelt off to dig the Panama Canal so as to cover up two kindly-yet-homicidal aunts of ours who've taken to offing lonely gentlemen. Hm, I think I watched a movie about that once._

"_There's only now, there's only here." Angel, sick of being ignored, takes Mimi's hands in hers and Mimi turns at last to face her._

"_Barging in on me and my guitar," Roger abruptly decides to explain why we're all sing-arguing. Oh, wow, she did WHAT? Man, she must be suicidal or high. Either way, not a good choice for a girlfriend of Roger's. I changed my mind again._

"_Give in to love, or live in fear," we warn Roger. After all, once you get a girlfriend, fangirls tend to terrorize her and leave you in peace for the duration of the relationship._

"_Little girl, hey," Roger said, although it's unclear who's attention he's trying to get. I mean, he obviously knows who Mimi is, and Collins and I aren't…Angel. That's it. Angel, because her name happens to begin with an A. You know, this could cause problems if Collins and Angel do hook up and decide to hang around with us. We should just rename her Hangel. The H being silent, of course, as this is Spanish._

"_No other path." To enlightenment than getting high, or at least according to Collins. Maybe I should monitor his visits with Roger. What, with his recent recovery from a nasty heroin-addiction, after all._

"_The door is that way," Roger said, indicating the complete wrong direction for our door. Does he want her to go back to work or something so she won't bother him anymore?_

"_No other way. No day but today!" Wow, this sounds just like what we learned at life support! Could this be a plot point? Nah, couldn't be. Angel and Mimi must just be really good friends who talk about that kind of stuff. And when did Mimi and Roger arguing about sex and drugs erupt into a philosophical debate, anyway?_

"_The fire's out anyway," Roger reminded me. After all, he can't possibly be expected to consider such things as moving on and giving up his hermitage while he's freezing to death. _

"_No day but today!" I'm not magic, he wants the fire relit from down here, he should ask Mimi. Okay, now I'm in favor of them again._

"_Take your powder, take your candle," Roger thoughtfully reminds her to not forget her stuff while she's also not letting the door hit her in the ass on the way out._

"_No day but today," we repeat because we really don't feel like coming up with a new mantra as this one seems to be working marvelously and Roger keeps scrambling to find something just as good._

"_Take your brown eyes, your pretty smile, your silhouette," Roger continues to list off things that she might somehow leave behind in our flat. I don't really want to know how._

"_No day but today!"_

"_Another time, another place, another rhyme, a warm embrace!" Roger said, complaining about the temperature and attempting to use his vampire powers to cast a spell and get rid of us. Fortunately for us, Mimi seems to have blocked it as we're still here. And yes, I know it's Mimi because I can only take so many mythical creatures in my life and three is my quota. The third is Maureen, by the way, who I swear is a Siren._

"_No day but today!" Beat that; you can't possibly come up with something better than collective thinking all on your own!_

"_Another dance, another way, another chance, another day!" Roger insists, although I'm not sure why he's ranting about dancing. Oh well, it's been a long day._

"_No day but today!" We finish smugly. And _**I'm**_ starting to remind myself eerily of Gollum with all this 'we/our' business. Thank God Roger's finally lost his patience at having to come up with something new every time while we just repeated the same catchphrase over and over again._

_Sure enough, they both shake their heads and Roger heads in and Mimi hugs Angel. And Collins and I are still there, too, in case you're wondering. We just kind of fade into the background. Like I usually do. Being the cameraman is so not gratifying. Guess I'd better go angst about Maureen for a bit before Roger needs me to go angst about why he won't go out with witch-girl._

_Such is the life._

To Be Continued…

R&R!


	10. Will I

Chapter Ten: Will I

Chapter Ten: Will I

Disclaimer: I still do not own RENT.

Note: Sorry it took so long to update. I…don't really have any reason why, except that this has got to be my least favorite song in the entire musical and, as such, an incredibly short chapter…

_I was sitting next to Roger on our windowsill and was just about to start lecturing him when our phone decided to ring._

"_SPEAK." _

"_Mark, Roger, it's Benny," Benny said. Hm, he never calls. Is he just doing this to forestall my lecture so that Roger will be in a better mood and hopefully not kill him the next time they meet? Very possible. Although how in the world Benny would even know…He wouldn't risk giving himself cancer…Cameras? He bugged us? Wouldn't put it past him…_

"_Look, you've still got a few hours to stop Maureen's protest." Yeah, who does he think I am? Superman? There's no way in hell anything short of a horrific natural disaster decimating the Alphabet City during the performance could stop Maureen's protest. And even then only because she would attract more attention by changing it to be a show about said natural disaster instead. And even THEN she'd still reschedule._

"_My offer expires after dark." Really? Benny's oh-so-generous offer to not evict us, his oldest and dearest friends, if we stopped Maureen's protest expires after the protest happens? I seriously never would have guessed that. Benny's message ended there. He didn't even wish us a Merry Christmas! I mean, even if he is trying to turn us into backstabbers like him and/or evict us and thus force us to take responsibility for ourselves and get real jobs, that's no reason to be rude!_

"_Hey," I said quickly, just in case Benny paid someone else to call us. He does that, you know, when he's bored or wants to interrupt dramatic moments. He's hired politicians, hookers, librarians, zoologists…Pretty much anyone he can think of. And even though I AM straight, thank you very much, let me tell you, there is nothing quite so disturbing as answering the phone only to hear the unmistakable sounds of phone sex._

"_How are you doing?" You haven't moved for almost two hours and I'm beginning to think that one of three things happened:_

_1) There's a Basilisk in the pipes of the building. Wouldn't surprise me in the slightest. I mean, after all, everything else under the sun seems to be in our plumbing and everyone under this roof seems to possess magical powers._

_2) That new 'lamp' Maureen gave me is not, in fact, a lamp but a Gorgon head, like I've suspected all along. I mean, Roger keeps insisting I'm imagining things, but we've been getting an awful lot of pigeons just drop dead after looking through our window. Although, to be fair, that could also technically be a secret security system Benny installed to prevent us from climbing out the window to escape when he wants to come talk to us and bother us about our rent. And if Roger really didn't believe me, he wouldn't put on mirrored sunglasses before looking it its general direction._

_3) He's being 'distant' and is waiting for me to drag what happened out of him. Yes, drag, because even though God knows he wants to talk about it, he still won't do it voluntarily._

_Taking a gamble and assuming it was option three (after all, if it wasn't, he wouldn't be able to hear me and tell me I'm wrong, so it's a pretty safe assumption. Just to be on the safe side, though, I'd better find those sunglasses…), I began, "Look, about last night—"_

_Predictably, Roger cut me off. "I don't want to talk about it."_

_Ha, right. If he didn't want to talk about it, he'd have just left the room without a word. What he REALLY means is, 'I want to talk about my feelings, but I'm too much indoctrinated into the gender roles of our society to admit that and as such, I require you to force me to do what I want to do in the first place. And no, I won't act grateful. Ever.'_

_Well, tough luck, Roger, I'm really not in the mood right now. Still, though, you are my best friend, so I suppose I can try and help. In a very roundabout sort of way. "You know, Mimi's going to be at Maureen's show tonight. You should come too. I'd hate to see you pass up something that could be good for you. You'll only regret it."_

_And by 'you'll only regret it' I mean, 'dude, stop sulking, it's been six months and you REALLY need to leave the flat so I can get a vacuum in there.' Yes. I'm not quite sure how this happened, but Roger has a vacuum phobia. As with most things in life, Roger blames Benny. He said that when they had to go places together and Roger wouldn't put on his socks, Benny told him that if he didn't, then the vacuum would eat his feet. It worked, granted, but caused bigger problems in the long run._

_I'm not entirely sure I believe Roger's explanation though. Not that I don't believe that Benny would issue a threat like that or anything, it's just that they didn't actually meet until they were fifteen. But hey, go figure._

"I'll live," I assure Mark. He raises an eyebrow. He doesn't believe me. He NEVER believes me, despite the fact I haven't died yet. Well, there was that one time…But the doctors brought me back to life with a defibrillator. Unfortunately, I was wet on the time. And being brought back to life while on fire is NOT a pleasant sensation, let me tell you.

"Right," Mark says shortly, probably realizing that, given my incredibly emoness right now, further elaborating would not be could to ensure that _he_ would live. You know, I just realized it's been, what, fifteen hours since Mark met Joanne and he STILL hasn't given me her number. I wonder if that's intentional, to ensure that I can't kill him yet. Although, knowing him, he probably recorded Joanne giving him her number. Then again, while I freely admit I know nothing about cameras, I thought the kind of camera Mark has doesn't do sound. If that's the case, though, then why does he keep talking to it? I think perhaps Mark has mental problems.

Mark left after, that, probably scared by the look in my eye, and I laid down, trying to take a nap. I mean, I know naps aren't very Emo, but hey, I was up all night angsting about Mimi and singing about my tragic inability to write a song. It didn't really work, though, as the minute I closed my eyes, I started hearing voices. In my head. Which is generally _not_ a good sign, especially if you're not on drugs.

"Will I lose my dignity? Will someone care? Will I wake tomorrow from this nightmare?"

Over and over and over again came the song. And worse yet: the song was repetitive, kind of like the Song that Never Ends. Oh god, it's only been about two minutes and already I'm getting a headache. Stupid green rock, I'm adding this to my reasons of why I'm killing Bennydict Arnold.

Oh God, I can't take this anymore! I just can't risk having to hear this song nonstop for the rest of my natural life! I may be forced to do something drastic. And since April already did the whole suicide thing, I can't do it, or else it'll look like I'm not original enough to find my own solutions for my problems. That's okay, though, I know something almost as good. Wait for it, wait for it…I, Roger Davies, will leave my apartment for the first time in half a year.

Not counting last night, of course, because that was just dealing with Benny and as such not nearly a monumental enough occasion. Now, if I could only find my coat…

_The song kept on going on and on and to tell you the truth, my three-second attention span couldn't take it. And yes, I have a short attention span, surprising though that may sound. I mean, if I had a longer one, I wouldn't really feel the need to stalk everyone in sight, now would I?_

_Just as I was about to make a break for it, who should come in then…Wait, is that...? It can't be…But…ROGER? I gape at him and he just rolls his eyes and starts singing. I'm not sure what he could possibly be here for, unless, of course, it's to stop the singing. If that's the case, then his presence does indeed have the desired effect as everyone quickly shuts up and stares at Roger in wonder. Man, you'd think he hadn't left the loft in half a year or something._

_As quickly as we possibly could without appearing rude or (worse) desperate, the four of us beat a very hasty retreat._

"_I'm so glad you came, man," Collins told Roger sincerely and clapped him on the back, his eyes shining like Roger was some kind of god or something. Hm, guess Collins was getting bored, too. Still, I think he's kind of overreacting._

"_I'm proud of you," I told Roger, not overreacting at all. Roger did just save us from the sing-along-that-never-ends, after all. Only Anger didn't seem to be thanking Roger on hands and knees, but then, as she's already established, she likes sing-alongs. Well, it takes all kinds, I guess._

_To Be Continued…_

_  
Review, please!_


	11. Santa Fe

Chapter Eleven: Santa Fe

Chapter Eleven: Santa Fe

Disclaimer: I still don't own RENT.

As we walked outside (I swear, I'm still not used to this. Me. OUTSIDE. I swear, if that song weren't so annoying…), we came across two police officers who clearly had nothing better to do than poke random people with sticks. I decided to stop and watch and maybe get a few pointers for the next time I encountered Benifer. And no, I'm not referring to couple, just an incarnation of evil. Well, it's possible that Benny and Lucifer might have…I mean, he's certainly evil enough…

"Come on, get up."

"Come on, let's go."

"Wake up."

"This ain't a campground." Wow. Those first three I can understand, but the last one…People know the streets aren't a campground, you know. For one thing, you don't have to shell out ten bucks to sleep there.

"Let's go. You gotta go." Okay, I think she gets the picture. Maybe she's just not a morning person. Or perhaps she has low blood pressure and CAN'T get up any quicker. Oh, she could SO take them to court for insensitivity to a serious medical condition.

"Christ, it's a lady," one of them groaned, and I can't blame them. If they were getting sued before, they're TOTALLY in for it now, on charges of sexual harassment. The police sticks are technically phallic symbols, after all. Then again, Freud did say 'Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.' But I heard that was when one of his friends implied he was gay for smoking them nonstop…So who knows, really?

"Come on, ma'am, you gotta get up," the other officer said, suddenly much more polite. Now, they just need to find witnesses to their newfound caring about the plight of the poor.

Mark decided to be an activist and actually do something for once instead of just standing around filming everyone else doing things. But, being Mark, it still involved a camera.

"Smile for Ted Keppel, officers," Mark said cheerfully. I'm not entirely sure why he thinks Ted Koppel would be interested in this, but then, a guy can dream, I guess.

The officers, while surely realizing that there is no way in hell this would every make the news, apparently realized that it could very well be used as evidence in the pending lawsuit and so ran off to go get a warrant on Mark's camera. They needn't bother, really. I'll probably take care of it for them the next time I'm drunk.

Instead of thanking us, ignoring us, going back to sleep, or even requesting a copy of Mark's film, the homeless lady draws herself up to her full height and glares at Mark. "Who do you think you are?"

Mark opens his mouth to reply, "Mark Cohen", but I kick him. We do NOT need angry homeless people learning our names and, consequentially where we live and then coming to us to beg for our mad rent-evasion skills. Or possibly finding a place to crash. And it's a rhetorical question, anyway.

"I don't need no goddamn help…" she rants, not realizing that that's a double negative, therefore signifying that she does, in fact, need help. "From some bleeding-heart cameraman." So…she's good to receive help from an ex-junkie rocker, a gay anarchy professor, and a drag queen?

"My life's not for you to make a name for yourself on," she continues, not realizing that her rant would probably have a better chance of making Mark famous than the scene with the cops.

Angel, ever the saint, quickly comes to the rescue. "Easy, sugar, easy. He was just trying to-"

"Just trying to use me to kill his guilt," she cuts her off. Wow. Despite Mark's designer clothes, we live in a literal deathtrap with no heat half the time and we never have food. What does Mark have to feel guilty for? Unless she's talking about his 'nighttime activities' since Maureen dumped him…

"It's not that kinda movie, honey," the bag lady interrupts, glaring at me. Wow. The PSYCHIC bag lady. I wonder if I could date her?

She just shakes her head, though. "This place if full of artists." So she already has a date then? Figures. Guess that just leaves Mimi. Suddenly, she stops. "Hey, artist, you got a dollar?" she asked sweetly.

Mark looks incredulously at me. Sure, we both have about 200 thanks to Angel, but what's with the sudden mood change? Is she PMS-ing or something? Unfortunately, before Mark could hand her a dollar, since, despite her rudeness, Mark would do it anyway as he's a good little Jewish boy, the bag lady snorted. "Didn't think so."

We headed to the subway to head back home when all of a sudden some upbeat music started following us around. Guess it's time for another musical number, then.

Sure enough, Angel semi-sings "New York City."

Mark is clearly not in the mood sing at all, much less about the wonders of New York. I don't know why he's so depressed, though. I mean, it isn't like we all didn't know about his 'secret shame' anyway. Small apartment with paper-thin walls, after all.

"Center of the universe," Angel continue merrily.

"Sing it, girl," Collins encourages as our usual cheerleader, Mark, is in no mood to be encouraging anyone, so Collins is encouraging his girlfriend in encouraging Mark.

"Times are shitty, but I'm pretty sure they can't get worse," Angel says optimistically. Yeah, um, here's a tip: Never, even, ever under ANY circumstances should you ever say that things can't get worse because you're wrong. They can. And probably will. And wow, I can't believe Angel actually swore. I'm just…in shock. Oh, and for the record, I would appreciate it if the fact that I've finally left the apartment and so am somehow now able to remember A-names was kept secret from my friends. I'm not sure how many congratulations about 'breakthroughs' I can take in one day.

"I hear that," Collins agreed. Wow, I never would have pegged Collins for an optimist, seeing as how he gets fired at least once every six months. On the other hand, he always immediately gets rehired, so…Or maybe he's reassuring Angel that he's not deaf. But why would she think that unless…Oh my God! Ear-sex! Eeeeeeeeeeeeeew!

"_It's a comfort to know, when you're singing the hit-the-road blues," Angel sings, smiling and putting a hand on my shoulder. I, for one, am feeling distinctly uncomfortable, seeing as how it appears that Collins new…girlfriend…I think…is hitting on me. _

"_That anywhere else you could possibly go after New York would be, a pleasure cruise," Angel croons. Hm, perhaps, but it couldn't possibly be a very good one. And Collins was smiling as he beckoned me into the subway after Angel, so perhaps he's not angry after all. But then, perhaps he is simply passive-aggressive or looking to murder me in my sleep._

"_Now you're talking," Collins grins, clearly having a very different idea of 'pleasure cruise' than was probably intended. Then again, we know nearly nothing about Angel, so she could be into S&M, in which case I won't judge. Mostly because those people scare me. And Collins' excessive giggling is not helping the mental images._

_Suddenly the subway started and I was thrown into a seat. VERY embarrassing. At least now, though, I can pretend that I think Collins is just laughing at me and not…Yeah…_

_Collins, for his part, was leaning against a pole and dancing. Oddly, he wasn't pole-dancing. I felt the need to point that out because I know that even with that particular tidbit of information, some people probably still won't believe me. Like once, when Roger signed me up for dancing in High School, we had to do some Latin American dance or something involved jumping over poles. I tried to explain that to my friends, but, predictably, once they heard the words 'pole' and 'dancing' in the same sentence, there was no chance of clearing things up._

"_Well, I'm thwarted by a Metaphysic puzzle," Collins announces, taking off his coat. Oh, dear Lord, I hope he hasn't convinced himself that that's pole-dancing and consequentially deciding to strip. I mean, if Collins were arrested, since Collins knows me I'd probably be arrested as an accomplice! Or, because I'm filming this, as I film everything, I could be charged with producing pornography! But…But I'm too Jewish to go to jail!_

"_And I'm sick of grading papers, that I know," Collins continued, despite the fact that his new job won't even start until after New Year's. And he could just get a TA to do it for him. Or change careers. He really doesn't have to try so hard to get arrested. _

"_I'm shouting in my sleep; I need a muzzle." OH I SO KNEW IT!_

"_And all this misery pays no salary so…"Collins hands Angel his coat and then bends down, very suggestively on one knee and I'm almost positive this is inappropriate and possibly illegal, but then, I'm sure Collins knows his public indecency laws better than any, most of all me. Besides…Wait. NO salary? I mean, I could understand 'shitty salary' but NO? I mean, he's an incredibly sought-after Professor and yet he's doing that for free? No wonder he hates his job. He's probably only doing it to keep out of prison. _

_Okay, so apparently Collins was only bending down to pick up a used cup, which is somewhat disgusting, and is holding it out and shaking his hips back and forth. Okay I REALLY think that could get him arrested under 'solicitation prostitution.' I mean, I see a guy a few seats down from us eyeing him speculatively already and something tells me that Collins is just getting started._

"_Let's open up a restaurant in Santa Fe. Sunny Santa Fe would be," Collins paused as Roger puts a quarter in the cup. Hm, didn't know Roger was bisexual. Am suddenly wondering about our rooming situation. Or perhaps Roger's just trying to get that one guy to think that Collins already has a client. Either way, Collins looks in it and says, "Nice." But, of course, he was probably being sarcastic even if he was smiling. Like I said, passive-aggressive._

"_We'll open up a restaurant in Santa Fe," Collins repeats, throwing the quarter back to Roger to signify that he was still client-less. Hm, I wonder if that's how Collins intends to pay to get to Santa Fe? Roger, for his part, looks thrilled to be receiving money at all. Then Collins throws Angel the empty cup. I don't really understand why._

"_And leave this to the roaches and mice," Collins said gesturing all around him and starting to swing on the pole but I WON'T THINK OF THE OBVIOUS IMAGERY! And wow, just give New York to the roaches and mice. I mean, sure mice can carry the plague and roaches can survive a nuclear holocaust but come on man! We're New Yorkers, we don't surrender that easily!_

_Collins, determined to give me nightmares, starts swinging even faster and whoa-ing. I decide to pace with my camera and follow him around, so as to relieve my nervous tension. I still can't believe nobody's complained yet…After twenty seconds or so, I'm starting to get incredibly dizzy and so am forced to sit down._

_Collins immediately turns to Angel. "You teach?" is, amazingly, the only thing she can think of to ask. Maybe it's because Roger and I are there, though._

"_Yeah, I teach," Collins confirms. Well…sort of. More 'teaching by example.' I swear, more of his students have gotten arrested… "Computer Age Philosophy." Translation: How to be an Anarchist in a Modern Society. But they don't find that out until at least the third class, by which times a few of the more boring students have dropped it and the rest are all thoroughly indoctrinated into the beliefs (or lack thereof) of Anarchy, that he's remarkably never been reported. And of course he only passes students who refused to do any homework, take any tests, or show up for the final._

"_When my students would rather watch TV," Collins said mournfully. Yes, people these days really are too lazy to make decent anarchists._

"_America," Angel shrugs._

"_America," Roger and I echo dutifully._

_A woman across the aisle eyes Collins disdainfully, but sits down with a book anyway. Guess the rest of the compartments are full after everyone in ours ran away to get some peace and quiet. _

"_You're a sensitive aesthete," Collins informs Angel, swinging his feet on the seats. Oh, now if that isn't a way to get the conductors pissed off, I don't know what is. Come to think of it, where ARE the conductors? Did anybody come and check to see if we had tickets? Which we don't?_

"_Brush the sauce onto the meat," Collins continued. I…don't actually know what he's talking about but I suspects it is not for young children's ears. "You can make the menu sparkle with rhyme," Collins says, glancing over at Roger. At Roger is trying to pretend that he doesn't know them. Wow, they must be being REALLY weird for Roger to do that._

"_You can drum a gentle drum," Collins gives Angel more work to do. "I can seat guests as they come, chatting not about Heidegger but wine." Collins moves down the aisle. Surprisingly most people jut ignore him. Then again, we live in New York, so perhaps they see things like this a lot. I wonder what I can do. Surely Collins is just about to tell me._

_Surprisingly, his next words aren't something along the lines of 'Mark, you can be in charge of advertising' but "Let's open up a restatement in Santa Fe."_

_As we echo "Santa Fe", I can't help but wonder: Does this mean I'm not invited? I'm actually feeling slightly emo about this. Probably less emo than Roger on a good day, but hey, this is a big deal for me._

"_Our labors would reap financial gain," Collins said. He pointed to me, then Angel, and finally Roger and we all take turns saying "Gain." Hm, WOULD reap. Does that mean he's not serious about going? Too bad. Then again, I suppose his attention span is too short to open up a successful restaurant. _

"_We'll open up a restaurant in Santa Fe," Collins insists. Great, he's flip-flopped again. "And save from devastation," he says, getting very, very close to Roger and making Roger very, very uncomfortable. Then he goes in for the kill "Brains!" He merrily messes up Roger's hair and Roger looks like that is physically paining him. _

"_Save our brains," Angel and I sing, grateful he decided to mess up Roger's hair and not our own. _

_Angel is, in fact, so grateful that she jumps up with him and they swing on poles together. "We'll pack up all our junk and fly so far away. Devote ourselves to projects that sell."_

"_We'll open up a restaurant in Santa Fe," Collins sings as he twirls Angel. "Forget this cold Bohemian hell," he continues, twirling some random girl._

_They whoa again and Angel steals some guy's hat and puts it on the head of the person next to him, probably prompting a fight and Collins twirls yet another girl. You know, if he weren't gay, he'd be a TOTAL Casanova THEN Collins does some impressive gymnastics and he and Angel come to sit by us again. _

"_Do you know the way to Santa Fe?" Collins asks, putting an arm around Roger and another around Angel. Seriously, am I missing something between them? "You know, tumbleweeds, prairie dogs…" Collins finishes, putting his feet up on the pole that he really is far too attached to and Angel crosses her legs and smiles patronizingly at me. Because I'm left out. Again. _

"_Yeah," I say, because I do, indeed, know where Santa Fe is and am fully aware that there is tumbleweed and prairie dogs there. And is it just me, or did that one book-reading girl totally disappear at one point and then magically reappear? I know what that means. WITCH!_

To Be Continued…

Review, please!


	12. I'll Cover You

Chapter Twelve: I'll Cover You

Chapter Twelve: I'll Cover You.

Disclaimer: I do not own RENT.

We got off of the Subway, Mark shaking the whole time. In fact, the minute we got above ground again, he stuttered, "Oh, guys, I-I'm late for Maureen's sound check. I gotta go." Right. He's just freaking out again. Although about what I cannot fathom. "Here, you can help me," he announced, grabbing my arm and basically kidnapping me.

Yeah, because I'm an EXPERT at sound-check technology. Or whatever they call those things they use.

"Bye," Angel waves half-heartedly but makes no attempt to stop my kidnapping. Some new friend she is. I bet she's looking forward to spending some time alone with her new boyfriend…

"See you later," Mark said cheerfully as he hustles me along. I'm about to protest when he pulls me behind some bushes. "Let's watch from here."

"Wait, wait, wait: we're spying on them?" I asked Mark.

"'Spying' is such a common word," Mark sniffed. "I prefer to call it 'Caring Enough about Collins to Make Sure That His New Girlfriend is Only a Dog-Killer and not a People-Killer'."

"Whatever…" Might as well. I mean, it's either that or going back to the apartment and, to tell you the truth, I was getting kind of sick of it.

Once they had some alone time, however, all they could do was smile at each other.

"It's cold," Collins finally offered.

"Come on," Angel said, and they began to walk. And music began to spy on them as well. Of course, the music was a lot less inconspicuous than we were, but then, I suppose, to be fair, Mark's had more practice. FAR more practice.

"Live in my house, I'll be your shelter," Angel sings. Wow, they must be serious if they're talking about sex already. Didn't they just meet, like, yesterday or something? No, wait, two days ago. I guess you move quicker when you have AIDS. I really should take note of this and hook up with Mimi later.

"Just pay me back with 1000 kisses. Be my lover and I'll cover you," Angel continued. That sounds vaguely like prostitution. Prostitution in Care-a-Lot. Dear Lord, I'm going to hell for even using those two in the same sentence, aren't I? Oh, and for having AIDS, according to most of the world. Sweet, that means I can basically do whatever I want with no further consequences! Except…a lecture from Mark. Maybe it's just from having a Jewish mother, but he does a damn fine guilt trip. I guess that means I'll have to at least acknowledge society's rules, then…

"Open your door, I'll be your tenant," Collins replied. Wow, getting a little explicit there, are we? I see some cops standing around, that's probably why they're speaking in code. Still, it's not a very GOOD code. Or else it's entirely possible that I just have a dirty mind. One of those.

"Don't got much baggage to lay at your feet," Collins said, but you can just hear what he's _not_ saying. Namely 'unlike everyone I hang out with. But especially Roger.' And for the record, it is so not paranoid if it's true. And Collins really doesn't ever talk about his problems, does he? He just pulls something like climbing the Eiffel Tower dressed as King Kong and gets kicked out of France for a year. Maybe that's why he keeps doing things to get himself fired. I've heard teaching is very stressful.

"But sweet kisses I've got to spare," Collins announced as Angel grabbed his hand and began to play with it. "I'll be there and I'll cover you."

Now, you may think that I'm having some difficulty with the images this song is, quite possibly unintentionally, put into my head. And that is undeniably true. But you should see Mark. He's rocking back and forth in front of me and muttering about finding his 'happy place.' Baby.

"I think they meant it when they said you can't buy love," Angel and Collins sing together. Hm, clichés aren't always the best way to start off a romance, but these two are just so goddamn _cute_ together. I think I'm getting nauseous. And who is 'they' anyway? Whoever they are, they give good advice. Or, at least, oft-quoted advice. And that does sound like it goes against my prostitution theory.

"Now I know you can rent it," they continued. Well, that actually does sound more like prostitution. And I'm not just using that word a lot because I desperately need to go find one! I've got Mimi, after all. Or, at least, I will. "A new lease you are, my love." On what, exactly? Last time I checked, you couldn't pay rent in people. Unless…but I'm not going there. Hm, I wonder if there's any room in Mark's happy place?

"On life. Be my liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiife!" Angel and Collins them crouch down and spring back up, jump around in a circle, and do a little impromptu dance. All while still holding hands, mind you.

"Just slip me on; I'll be your blanket." I'm not entirely sure how it's possible for them to be EACH OTHERS' blanket…Maybe it's some weird metaphysical thing? Or else they are really, really flexible and I still do not want to know.

"Wherever, whatever, I'll be your coat." Right as I was getting some more bad mental images, I saw that they had, indeed, stopped in front of a conveniently placed outdoor coat-salesman.

Angel picked one out at random and put it around Collins, singing, "You be my king and I'll be your castle."

Collins shook his head, saying, "No, you'll be my queen and I'll be your moat."

Now, both of these are highly…suggestive, to say the least. And I am the only one who realizes that you can't have a king unless you're a queen yourself or vice versa? Ah well, no need for logic to get in the way of the nearly Disney-level cuteness.

As Angel pays the coat-salesman (apparently it cost exactly twenty dollars. How fortunate.), Collins flipped the top of his collar down. Twice. Yeah, that's kinda weird. And, multi-taskers that they are, they also manage to skip along merrily and reminiscent of Snow White, while repeating, "I think they meant it when they said you can't buy love, now I know you can rent it. A new lease you are my love."

"On life. All my liiiiiiiiiiiiiife!" And with that they start off on an impromptu race down the street. I can't help but think that it would, perhaps, be more conclusive if they had stopped holding hands while they were doing it. "I've longed to discover something as true as this is…"

"They've only been dating for two days, right?" I asked Mark. No response. He's still in his happy place. I poked him a few times and he finally looked up.

Once I'd repeated the question, he nodded, puzzled. "Yeah, why?"

"It's just that they're acting like it's their anniversary or something and I thought that perhaps it was and I just lost track of time. You can do that in an apartment without a clock, you know," I explained.

"Hey, you're the one who took a sledgehammer to the one we had-" Mark began.

"The one that was BENNY'S," I sniffed. "And therefore not deserving to exist."

Mark ignored that. "Maybe it's their two day anniversary."

"Wow, I don't believe I've ever celebrated a two-day anniversary. Maybe that's the kind of thing you do when you have a terminal disease. That makes it Mimi and my two-day anniversary, too!" I exclaimed.

"Yeah, except you're not dating," Mark pointed out.

"Eh, close enough. We just have to formalize it," I said dismissively. "I mean, we've already made out and argued about her drug habit and everything."

Then Angel and Collins decided to dance really close together and serenade each other.

"So with a thousand sweet kisses…"

"When you're cold and you're lonely…"

"I'll cover you…"

"With a thousand sweet kisses…"

"You've got one nickel only…" Wow, this is very confusing. And you can't really buy anything with a nickel. If he was so desperate for money he should have kept that quarter I gave him on the subway. But wait, didn't Angel give him a bunch of money when she gave Mark and I some? Did he really blow through it that quickly? Man, weed is _expensive._

Collins and Angel stop dancing and start walking along again. "With a thousand sweet kisses."

"When you're worn out and tired, I'll cover you."

"With a thousand sweet kisses," Angel says, placing her hand on Collins chest and leaning in close to him. You know what _that_ means!

"When you're heart has expired."

"Oh, lover," they sing together, "I'll cover you."

And with that they joins hands, another adorable Disney moment, shout out, "Yeah!" in anticipation of whatever they're about to do next, which will no doubt shock and possibly horrify everyone in their general vicinity.

Sure enough, they lean in really close. "Oh, lover." Collins takes Angel's face in his hands. "I'll cover yooooooou."

And then, they kiss.

And it's adorable.

Because when are they not?

And Mark is filming like crazy.

But when is he not?

To Be Continued…

Review, please!


	13. Over the Moon

Chapter Thirteen: Over the Moon

Chapter Thirteen: Over the Moon

Note: I did change some of the dialogue from the movie version to the musical version, because I liked it better.

Other Note: This is probably my least favorite song in the movie, so it may come out like that, sorry.

Disclaimer: I do not own RENT.

So after all the excitement, and given that I was already thinking of Mimi as my girlfriend, I supposed that I really should go out and find her and make her my girlfriend. I found her with The Man. Of course. Let's see if I can handle this in a nice, mature…

"I'm gonna celebrate tonight," Mimi was telling him.

"All right, cool," he replied.

"The usual," she ordered. And, for the record, you know you have a drug problem when you have a 'usual.'

"Cool," he said. Goddamn, does he ever saying anything but 'cool', I mean, I know Mimi's young and all, but I'm guessing she's moved past the 'I do drugs because I'm so stupid I think they're cool' phase. Especially now that she's got a 'usual'.

"Hey," I said, coming up behind her.

"Hey," she said, a bit nervously.

"Can I talk to you for a sec-" I begin. And even though I don't approve of her drug habit, I am perfectly willing to wait for her to conclude her transaction before asking her out.

"Hey lover boy, cutie pie. You steal my client, you die." Apparently The Man has a lot of faith in me, though, because he sees where this is going and, instead of assuming that the junkie will draw the ex-junkie back into using, which is the norm, assumes that I'll get her to stop using. His faith is touching, it really is. Although, I think he just hit on me, so…Yeah…

Oh, and he shoved me, too. Now I just can't have that, not in front of my almost-girlfriend! I shove him back and say, "You didn't miss me, you won't miss her; you'll never lack for customers!"

Then Mimi practically dragged me away. She just looked at me expectantly so I took a deep breath and said, "Look. About last night…I'm sorry. I don't know what the-"

But she interrupted me. Real classy, by the way. And yes, I KNOW I'm not exactly the best at apologies, but I'm kind of out of practice. I mean, the only one I was in regular communication with was Mark, and, no matter _what_ you do to him, if you glare at him long enough, he'll end up apologizing.

"Just forget it," she said. Hey! My apologies can't be that bad that you just want to forget about the whole 'let's get together' thing. I mean, you were all over me JUST LAST NIGHT! God, she's fickle.

Still, I was determined to see this through. "I was out of line," I told her. "Can I make it up to you?"

"How?" she asked. That means she's considering it and that's always a good sign.

"Bunch of us are getting together tonight," I said. Then I realized she'd probably need more information. "At the Life Café. After Maureen's show."

"Yeah?" she prompted, grinning. She's enjoying my pathetic attempt to ask her out far too much, I swear. Well I'm sorry I didn't write a whole song for you, Mimi. I'm still working on it!

"Would you like to come with me?" There. It's out. My God, that was like a bloody root canal. No wonder Mark's still single. He has this thing about pain.

"Sure, I'd like that," she acquiesced and she took my arm as we went to go find my friends. "So, you're a tough guy?" she asked, mock-punching my shoulder.

"No, not really," I laughed. But I'm always ready to brutally murder Benny.

"That's pretty good," Mimi complimented my earlier violence against her drug-dealer.

Finally, I spot Mark. Good little Jewish white-boys stand out everywhere. "Over there. The guy with the glasses, right here."

Mimi must have seen them as she cried out, "ANGEL!"

"MIMI!" Angel hollered back.

"Oh my God, you look so good!" Mimi gushed. Well, I guess they already know each other. Small world. And they both came into our lives on the same night in two completely unrelated manners. Weird…Well, not completely unrelated, because if Collins hadn't have gotten beaten up, he wouldn't have come across Angel and if Collins had been in the loft, Mark wouldn't have left either and I would have made one of them deal with Mimi. Plus she probably wouldn't have hit on a room of guys.

Before we could say more, though, we heard a motorcycle. And the music started playing. That can't be right, though, where's Maureen?

Oh, wait, Maureen is RIDING the motorcycle. We all waved and cheered dutifully and a few people began to chant her name. Not me, though, as I am far too emo to do that.

_Now, don't get me wrong, it's not like I'm surprised that Maureen rode a motorcycle through a crowd of people to get to her protest. Late. What really shocked me was that she wore a helmet. Must be Joanne's doing. And speaking of Joanne, I can see her operating the lights._

_People began chanting her name again and she started attacking the audience with her clothing. But apparently the audience didn't mind. Maybe that's because the guy who got hit with her helmet is now unconscious. But anyway._

_Maureen snapped her fingers and the lights turned on. Not surprising, she snaps her fingers and she can get ANYTHING._

"_Last night, I had a dream," Maureen began. Wait, last night? When did she write this? No wonder I didn't see her today. And here I thought she was just being a lousy girlfriend to Joanne and making her do all the work for her sound check. And by her, I mean me, of course. Joanne still doesn't know what she's doing._

"_I found myself in a desert called 'Cyberland'," Maureen continued. So, was there a sign in this desert, or how did she know what it was called? And why would you name a desert Cyberland? It really doesn't make much sense. Plus, aren't most deserts called 'the whatever desert'? So is this the Cyberland Desert? Because that sounds even weirder than before._

"_It was hot." Really? You know, most deserts are. In fact, if you don't specifically say that it was cold, we all kind of assume that it was hot. "My canteen had sprung a leak and I was…thirsty." Why didn't she just drink the water from the canteen when it first started to leak, rather than just let it drip all over the place? _

"_Out of the abyss walked a cow. Elsie." Okay, first of all, what would a cow be doing in a desert? Maureen's dreams don't make sense! Mine always do. It's kind of depressing, really, but if something happens that doesn't make sense, then I point out that it doesn't make sense and it goes away. I haven't had a weird dream in a while, though. I think that my subconscious has finally given up on me. And why does she know the cow's name? Wait, don't tell me it's a…Hey, is that Benny? And his father-in-law? Wow, this protest must be a bigger deal than I though, if they're here personally._

"_I asked if she had anything to drink. She said, 'I'm forbidden to produce milk. In Cyberland we only drink Diet Coke'." I knew it! And is there any point in wondering how exactly you can forbid a cow from producing milk? I mean, it's not like they can help it or anything. And why Diet Coke? Why not regular Coke? Or Sprite? Or any other beverage by Coca-Cola?_

"_She said, 'Only thing to do is jump over the moon.'" How is that the only thing to do? I mean, that's kind of out there, isn't it? Even if she is a cow. "They've closed everything real down. Like barns and troths and…Performance Spaces." Ah, and now we've gotten to the real reason for the protest. Her performance space. I bet she told everyone it was a historical landmark or something. And…did she just say troths? As in, a promise of fidelity? Is she blaming her inability to stop cheating on me and, I guess now, Joanne on Benny? Unbelievable. Who is she, Roger?_

"_And replaced it all with lies and rules and Virtual Life…But there is a way out!" Such as, I don't know, _**couples counseling**_? _

"_Leap of faith, leap of faith, leap of faith, leap of faith…" her back-up recordings sing. _

"_Only thing to do is jump over the moon," Maureen repeats. "IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII gotta get out of here!" Good lord, that I went on so long, her eyes started bulging. "It's like I'm being tied to the hood of a yellow rental truck being packed in with fertilizer and fuel oil, pushed over a cliff by a suicidal Mickey Mouse." Wow, that's oddly specific. And how would you get into a situation like that in the first place? And did I mention the whole time she was singing that, her head was going up to down by her…knees non-stop? Very distracting. And not just because I'm her ex-boyfriend._

"_I've" Maureen sings that single word for far longer than necessary "gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta," at this Maureen took a breath, "gotta, gotta, find a way to jump over the moon." And more distracting hair-flipping here._

"_Yeah, go Maureen!" Mimi cheered._

_I guess Maureen must have noticed Benny's presence, too, because he next words were, "Then, a little bulldog entered. His name, we have learned, was Benny." But now he has apparently changed it. And Maureen pointed to Benny and Joanne turned the spotlight on him. I wonder what she would have done if he hadn't have been here? Either way, he is and the crowd is now booing him. Poor guy._

"And although he once had principles, he abandoned them to live as a lapdog to a wealthy daughter of the revolution," Maureen pretty much summed up how Benny went from roommate-material to root-of-all-evil. Collins shut me a look, silently asking me what was up with the whole Benny situation, but I shook my head. For once, I actually did not want to talk about it.

"A one, two, three, 'That's bull,' he said." What's bull? Elsie is allowed to produce milk after all? This song doesn't make any sense. And how is this protesting anything? "Ever since the cat took up the fiddle, that cow's been jumpy." Well, maybe the cat just sucks at the fiddle, have you ever considered that? "The dish and the spoon were evicted from the table and eloped." How did they afford to get married if they were getting thrown out of their apartment? Oh God, this better not be another gay joke about Mark and I. You know, I think that might be part of the reason they broke up: She thinks he's gay.

"She's had trouble with that milk and the moon ever since, maybe it's a…female things." You know, I'll be the first to admit that girls often confuse me, but I've learned that just because you can't understand something someone is doing and that someone happens to be a female, it does not necessarily make it a 'female thing.'

Benny looked amused at this, and Mr. Grey glared at him, so he pretended to be scratching his nose. " 'Cause who'd wanna leave Cyberland anyway? Walls ain't so bad." And they don't care about such things as grammar. "The dish and the spoon, for instance, they're down on their luck. They come konckin' on my doghouse door and I say, 'Not in my back yard, utensils. Go back to China.'" Okay, she is totally talking about us. But Benny came to us, not the other way around!

" 'The only way out is up,' Elise whispered to me," Maureen shouted. " 'A leap of faith. Still thirsty?' " Well, unless she somehow got a drink in a DESERT while all this was going on, I'd imagine so. " 'Parched.' 'Have some milk.'" Wait, I thought that was illegal? Now it doesn't matter because you're song-buddies? I DON'T UNDERSTAND THIS SONG! "And I lowered myself beneath her swollen udder and I sucked the sweetest milk I had ever tasted." Well, that's a hyperbole if I've ever heard one. I mean, how do you measure that objectively? Anyway, then she throws her head back and starts making sucking sounds and Mark starts looking incredibly uncomfortable.

" 'Climb onboard,' she said. And as the harvest moon rose over Cyberland…" And at this, the moon they made rose behind Maureen. "We reared back, we sprang into a gallop…" And Maureen had to pantomime all of it. "Leaping out of orbit. I awoke, singing, 'Only thing to do is jump over the moon.'" Well, that must've scared Joanne. After repeating that a few more times, Maureen made a strange noise with her nose and bid us, "Moo with me." Um…what? Is that what she was doing?

Eventually, someone did. "Yes, who is that? Come on. Moo with me. Yes, come on sire. Don't be shy, let it go. Moo with me. Let it rip. Yes!" Maureen cheered as more people began to moo. But not me, I'm too cool for that. "Let it go, New York City! Yeah!"

And then mooing became considered a 'mob action' and we protest got broken up by a riot. Ten to one Mark got it all on film.

To Be Continued…

Review please!


	14. La Vie Boheme

Chapter Fourteen: La Vie Boheme

Disclaimer: I do not own RENT.

Note: Hey, I finally got around to updating! After...14 months...

"Benny got exactly what he wanted," Maureen was complaining, trying to act as though she didn't get exactly what she wanted as well. "He screws up my show, he gets all those people arrested…" Naturally, of course, screwing up her show – which was just about over anyway – ranked higher on Maureen's list of 'things that annoyed her that Benny has done recently' than, say, getting three dozen people thrown in jail. Although starting the riot was really that one police officer's fault, not Benny's but since when have I ever let things like 'logic' and 'facts' get in the way of what I want to believe?

"Cops won't hold them for long," Joanne replies, reminding us, once again, that yes, she is a lawyer. Still, I can't be too annoyed with her for that as she gave me some great legal advice on the walk over to the Life Café. "They'll let them go in a few hours." And with that, we completely absolve ourselves of any responsibility and go to party.

Joanne, Collins, and Angel all introduce themselves and we decide that since the Life Café is an actual business – although how it has managed to remain so when half its patrons don't ever actually pay – it probably has heat and thus we'll wait inside.

"Wait, where's Mark?" I suddenly notice the distinct lack of a camera. And the man attached to it.

Collins, who hasn't been back long enough to get a sixth sense about being filmed, just shrugged. "I don't know, man. Let's wait for him inside. Come on." Hm, I hope he didn't get arrested. Ah, well. I'm sure he'll have some fascinating footage of jail walls and angry protesters to share if he did.

Speak of the devil and he will appear. We were inside for maybe half a minute when Mark comes tearing down the street and into the restaurant. "Hey," he greets, out of breath.

"Hey. Are you alright?" I ask.

"I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine." Silly Mark, that whole 'ask a question three times to get an answer' trick he learned from Austin Powers only works on **questions**. Undeterred, he makes his way over to the lesbian ex-love-of-his-life and her new girlfriend. "Tonight on the 11:00 news, the lead story is going to be your show," he proclaimed grandly.

Maureen looks thrilled. "How do you know that?" Um, duh? Walking, talking cameraman here? How else?

"They bought my footage of the riot," Mark explained. That doesn't necessarily mean it's going to be the lead story but…whatever. It's unlikely any of us will get back in time to watch it anyway. "They're gonna see the whole thing." Wow, he must have only taped, like, five minutes of the riot or something. I hope he got the part where Angel drop-kicked that cop that was trying to drag her away from Collins.

We all congratulated him, then Maureen said the words Mark's been longing to hear since the breakup: "How can I ever repay you?"

Joanne, sensing danger, quickly answers before Mark manages to. "Let the boy buy us dinner."

Wait, wait…Mark did something good for Maureen, and as a reward he gets to buy Maureen things? God, it's like they're still dating…But still, shouldn't Miss Ivy League Lawyer be more equipped to handle the bill than the perpetually broke Bohemian? I'm just saying. Still, I guess saying 'we'll buy him dinner' is out if Joanne's still pissed at Mark for…I don't know, existing? Being male and Maureen's ex concurrently?

"Please, no. No, not tonight." Strange. It's almost like the host of the Café isn't pleased to see us. "Please leave." He's polite, I'll give him that, but why on Earth is he trying to turn away some of his most regular customers? Must investigate.

"What? Why?" I asked. Personally, I blame Benny.

The host sighs exasperatedly. "You sit here all night and you never order anything." Huh? Surely, between all of us, some of us order **something** occasionally…right?

Sure enough, Mark speaks up, "That's a lie. Last week I had a tea."

"You couldn't pay," the host pointed out, rolling his eyes. 'Couldn't' or 'didn't feel the need to as they never push the issue'?

"Oh yeah," Mark laughs sheepishly, stepping to the side to allow someone else to try.

"Well…" Angel decides to give it a go and holds up a handful of money. "Tonight, we can. Come on." I sure hope Angel doesn't intend to pay for everything given that Joanne makes thousands of dollars a year (and quite possibly a month) and Angel worked hard killing puppies for that money.

"Fine," the host concedes, resigned. "Just please don't move the tables…"

You know, that's a really great idea. "Let's push these tables together!" I suggested.

"No. No, no, no…" the host moaned helplessly, making no move to either stop us or try to refuse us service.

Suddenly, my Benny-senses started tingling. "Well, if you get back to me, let's say by early next week we can break ground, I'm thinking, mid-January," Benny plotted nefariously. He's probably making plans to tear down an orphanage and replace it with a Starbucks or something. Or I guess he could be talking about all those people he evicted. Whichever, really.

"Benjamin Coffin III," Collins greeted, noticing our traitorous friend's presence as well. And I still haven't gotten around to explaining why we don't like him anymore…ah, well, he should be able to pick up on the blatant hostility on his own.

"The enemy of Avenue A," Maureen adds, in case anyone has forgotten that. Not bloody likely…

"You got a whole lot of nerve showing your face here after what just happened," Collins noted, although whether he sounded disapproving or admiring is anyone guess, really.

"Listen, guys, this was not my fault," Benny insisted, abandoning his investors in favor of annoying his poor plebian friends who clearly want nothing to do with him while the protesters are still sitting in jail.

"Go to hell," Maureen voiced everyone's sentiment. Or, at least, mine.

"Jerk," someone else muttered. Okay, so there were at least some mild anti-Benny feelings going around. That's good.

"You put the cops on standby," Collins pointed out.

"I didn't want it to get out of control," Benny tried to defend himself. And instead he ended up starting a riot. Way to go, Benny. You know what they say about the road to hell…although 'wanting to make lots and lots of money' really isn't a very good intention. And that reminds me.

"Why did Muffy-" I begin.

"Allison," Benny corrected, shooting a nervous look at his father-in-law. Hm, strange.

"Miss the show?" I continue as if I were not so very interrupted.

"There was a death in the family if you must know," Benny replied instead of the 'because she didn't care' that I was expecting. Well. This is awkward.

Finally, Angel bravely stepped up to the plate and asked the question we were all thinking. "Who died?"

"Our Akita," Benny said shortly.

Oh, don't tell me…

"Evita," those of us who had heard all about it from Angel supplied, laughing. Wow, how did Mimi hear about it? Oh well. Small world, huh?

Benny smiled then, like he knew exactly what we were talking about, but didn't care because he'd never liked that dog anyway. Come to think of it, I'm fairly certain he was allergic. "You make fun, yet I'm the one, attempting to do some good. Or do you really want a neighborhood where people piss on your stoop every night?" Um, those aren't people, Benny, those are dogs. And I don't see how building a nicer apartment building will change any of that. Unless, of course, he wants to hire stoop security? Or spray febreze? Because we can really do that last one ourselves. And if it's a choice between having to deal with pee or having to deal with you and your smug 'I-told-you-so's' I would SO pick the pee. Every time.

"Bohemia, Bohemia's a fallacy in your head," Benny declared. Actually, it was a real-live kingdom until 1918 when it became part of Czechoslovakia. But I'm sure he knows what he's talking about. "This is Calcutta," Benny continued, putting his hand on my back. Ah! His touch! It burns! It burns! Not to mention, of course, that he's wrong again. It's New York. God, he really sucks at Geography, doesn't he? "Bohemia is dead." How dare he?!?! Even if it is technically true since the renaming… Urge to kill rising…

_With that, Benny heads back to his table, the matter – as far as he is concerned – concluded. Seriously, he totally starts singing, thereby giving all of us tacit permission to start singing, and he doesn't think we'll take him up on that? God, he's been away for a __**while**__, hasn't he? Besides, one look at Roger tells me he's about two seconds away from running over there and attempting to strangle Benny himself, but we've got enough people sitting in jail tonight so I may as well try and distract him and defuse the situation. _

_As I stand up imitate a chicken as I follow Benny to the front of the table, I realize to my surprise that I'm actually going to do something for once. And I left my camera back on my seat. I can't possibly go back for it or it'd totally ruin the awesomeness that is this moment. Here's to hoping I don't have a panic attack without it._

"_Dearly beloved," I begin, as naturally we must hold a funeral for our beloved Bohemia. Even if it did die over fifty years before any of us were even born. Better late than never, right? "We gather here to say our goodbyes."_

_Most people just look confused, but Roger and Collins immediately stand up and start saying something probably funeral-appropriate in what sounds like Latin. I'm not sure, though. They're really great friends. Unless they're secretly insulting me, which is always a possibility. I turned around to face Benny, who was staring at me with a 'crap, this was such a bad idea' expression on his face and his two companions, who merely look confused. Odds of them ever returning to the Alphabet City after this is slim to none, I'd say._

"_Here she lies," I continued to eulogize, deciding on the spot to practice an old trust exercise and falling backwards. Fortunately, everyone else seems to have followed Collins and Roger's example and were standing up to catch me. "No one knew her worth. The late, great daughter of Mother Earth." I'm not entirely sure why I'm being passed around the table like a flask, but whatever. It's the day after Christmas and we're all soon to be drunk anyway. _

"_On these nights when we celebrate the birth in that little town of Bethlehem we raise our glass," I declared, standing up and raising a glass. Maureen proves just how well she knows me but immediately standing on the table as well and pulling down her pants – and she apparently wasn't wearing any underwear – to moon Benny & co. just as I said, "You bet your ass."_

_Now, to start the toasts. "To La vie Boheme." I clink my glass with Maureen's, but I'm just getting started here. People never pay this much attention to me._

"_La vie Boheme," everyone echoes a few times while I brainstorm. With all this hype, it had better be good._

"_To days of inspiration, playing hooky, making something out of nothing. The need to express, to communicate." Of course, in order to play hooky properly you really need something you're supposed to be doing that you're avoiding so I'm not very good at that. Collins is, though. And making something out of nothing isn't just a cliché, it's a lifestyle. One, we've rather perfected, I think._

"_To going against the grain, going insane, going mad." I'm just going to pretend those last two don't mean exactly the same thing and keep going. "To loving tension, no pension, to more than one dimension." And clearly, despite what you'd think, I MUST love tension to willingly be spending time with Maureen and Joanne and Roger while Benny's present. Not to mention the fact that I'm officially the seventh wheel, here. And there's no way to get a pension unless you have a job, and that is sadly selling out. Maybe in that other dimension I was talking about I might actually have a career. And my friends wouldn't be dying the slowest deaths in the history of mankind._

"_To starving for attention, hating convention, hating pretension, not to mention of course: hating dear old mom and dad." Naturally, we're all rather severely attention-starved or else we wouldn't feel the need to make a scene everywhere we go. As conventional wisdom tends to look down on our attention-seeking and freeloading ways, we look down on it. Turnabout's fair play and whatnot. And, well, Benny pretty much defines pretension at this point and if I didn't mention that we hate him, Roger would probably kill me. Or my precious camera that I can totally see him holding. Sure, it looks like he's filming the one time I'm liable to ever do anything, but I know the truth: he's holding it hostage!_

"_To riding your bike midday past the three piece-suits." That's always awkward and makes me feel slightly like someone who hasn't 'realized their full potential' as my parents consistently tell me whenever they manage to trick me into answering the phone. Is it any wonder I have parent issues? We all do, really. None of our nice middle-class suburban parents approve of our bohemian lifestyle. "To fruits." Whoops. Probably shouldn't have pointed to Angel just then. Please nobody notice, please nobody notice… "To no absolutes, to Absolut, to choice, to the Village Voice." Good, nobody noticed. Nice spin there, Collins._

"_To any passing fad." That seems kind of like something a sell-out would do, but whatever. We can be fad-obsessed and still awesome, right? "To be an 'us' for once, instead of a 'them'." Ah! Why is Maureen clinging to my legs?!?! It is making it very difficult to concentrate. Must extract myself from difficult situation. "La vie Boheme!" I reiterate the main theme and jump off the table. Although why we're singing long live Bohemia when we're eulogizing it is a bit beyond me…ah well, I probably just haven't had enough to drink yet._

_Now that that's done, I can leave the spotlight to the others while I chase Roger around trying to get my camera back._

_Mr. Grey coughs pointedly Joanne's hands on Maureen's ass, and Maureen, unabashed as always, responds with a, "Hey mister, she's my sister," as she puts her hands on Joanne's ass and pulls her closer. Joanne, being a highly respectable lawyer, does not look embarrassed as one would expect but rather starts laughing. Guess one month with Maureen has already rid her of any and all mortification she might have naturally possessed. And yes, I'm still saying one month as I firmly believe they met the day I was dumped and I will not hear otherwise._

_It's a sign of how often we come here that when the waiter comes by, he doesn't even feel the need to take our orders, he just lists off, "So that's five miso soup, for seaweed salad, three soy-burger dinner, two tofu-dog platter, and one pasta with meatless balls?" for confirmation. And then he sits on the table. It's a good thing we really don't care that much about sanitation…_

"_Ew," Roger made a face, probably at the thought of meatless balls as we're all vegetarians so that can't possibly be what's bothering him._

"_It tastes the same," Collins defended. And considering that he's only ever hear half the time, it's quite a feat for the waiter to remember him._

"_If you close your eyes," Mimi laughed. Although what taste and sight have to do with each other are beyond me._

"_And thirteen orders of fries, is that it here?" the waiter asked. It never is._

"_Wine and beer!" we all shouted, as non-descriptive as can be._

_Mimi and Angel apparently decide that they want to continue toasting while we wait for the food as they get on the table as well and sing, "To handcrafted beers made in local breweries. To yoga, to yogurt, to rice and beans and cheese." Seriously not getting how this has to do with anything. Are we just celebrating things that we like, now? Is Mimi even old enough to drink? Not like that's ever stopped any of us…"To leather, to dildos." Okay, way more than I needed to know about their sex lives, seeing as how I'm not getting any right now. "To curry vindaloo. To huevos rancheros, and Maya Angelou. Emotion, devotion, to causing a commotion. Creation, vacation. "_

"_Mucho masturbation," I add, proving that I too can speak a foreign language while also simultaneously lamenting my status as 'the only single one here.'_

"Compassion to fashion to passion, when it's new." And now Benny is looking amused and scratching his nose to try and hide his smile again! Not, of course, that I'm obsessively watching him or anything. But someone really ought to tell him that that's really not a very effective way to hide his amusement. Not me, of course, seeing as how I hate him right now. Maybe Mark will take pity on him and clue him in.

"To Sontag," Collins calls out.

"To Sondheim," Angel responds automatically. Okay, they've known each other for all of two days by now, what gives with all the inside jokes? I sense a story, but I probably don't want to know so I'll ask Mark about it later.

"To anything taboo," a group of girls whose names I don't actually remember sing, writhing on the table.

Collins saw me just standing around and – most likely afraid that Mark and I were exchanging personalities as he was just standing in the limelight – grabbed my arm and dragged me up onto the table. "Ginsberg, Dylan, Cunningham, and Cage." So we were just listing random people? It sounds profound.

"Lenny Bruce," Collins introduced, pointing to me.

Aw… "Langston Hughes," I returned the favor. I'm not even sure that Collins writes poetry but…whatever. It's the thought that counts, right?

"To the stage!" Maureen adds, doing some nice leg exercise while lying on the table. Well, that's one way to keep fit, I guess.

"To Uta, to Buddha!" some random girl yelled out as Collins and I danced across the table and jumped off. Yes, danced. Don't ask me why, we just did.

"Why Dorothy and Toto went over the rainbow…to blow off Auntie Em," Mimi and Mark chorused. Since when do those two know each other? They better not double-team me in their attempts to get me to be a better person…Well, actually Mimi just seems to want me to be more social and as a junkie herself she really can't talk about my issues. And I thought it was because of the tornado, especially as she seemed quite eager to get back home. But maybe that's just in the watered-down sellout version. And – you guessed it – I blame Benny.

Somehow this leads to a rallying cry of "La vie Boheme!" which somehow leads to Joanne and Maureen making out on the table. Can't that girl control her hormones for five minutes?

"Sisters?" one of Benny's minions asks uncertainly. Wait, he actually bought that? But they look nothing alike! Or is he being all progressive by assuming that they could be half-sisters of adopted or something.

"We're close," Joanne and Maureen chorus.

They get off the table followed by a few other people to reveal Angel and Collins doing the exact same thing. "Brothers!" they claim gleefully.

That's it, this calls for a random-word shout-out. "Bisexuals, trisexuals, homo sapiens." Yes, yes, we all love our own species. And I'm not entirely sure what a trisexuals is, but it sounds awesome. Maybe someone who likes men, women, AND hermaphrodites? "Carcinogens, hallucinogens, men, Pee-wee Herman." Seeing as how half of us are dying of AIDS anyway, little things like Cancer aren't really a concern so bring on the cigarettes. Except for me, Maureen, Joanne, and possibly Mark everyone here likes men and Pee-wee Herman…well, you've got to respect someone that creepy who manages to have a semi-popular kids show. And did Angel just lift her skirt to reveal Collins? Strange…

"German wine, turpentine, Gertrude Stein, Antonioni, Bertolucci, Kurosawa, Carmina Burana." And oh crap, now the manager is shooting us suspicious looks. Just because we mentioned a highly flammable substance does NOT mean we have any plans of torching the establishment, geez. And whatever happened to liking local drinks? Or is that just local beer and foreign wine? Whatever.

Oh, when did Collins get a joint? No fair; I want one! "To apathy, to entropy, to empathy, Ecstasy. Vaclav Havel, the Sex Pistols, 8BC." Although how can you celebrate both apathy and empathy at the same time? Or celebrate apathy at all, really? And why in the world are we celebrating society deteriorating? Is it just like one of those end-of-the-world parties that you see every so often? "To no shame, never playing the fame game." Not that that's a dig on Benny or anything.

"To marijuana," Collins declares happily as he takes a long drag. Oh, feel free to rub it in. And it really says something when you can announce your usage of an illegal substance in a crowded restaurant and no one bats an eyelash.

"To sodomy, it's between God and me," we continue as Angel humps Collins. Looking thoroughly shocked, Benny's fellow demons stand up and practically run for the door. "To S&M!" we call after them, prompting them to run faster, especially when Collins faux-slaps Angel. As IF anyone with even an ounce of humanity in them could do it for real.

"Waiter, waiter, waiter, waiter," Benny yells as he follows his companions towards the door.

"La vie Boheme!" we sing, to celebrate our victory over The Man. No, not **that** man, the other, not-an-actual-person one.

"_In honor of the death of Bohemia, an impromptu salon will commence immediately following dinner," Collins announced, suddenly remembering what, exactly, prompted our celebration of death. "Maureen Johnson," naturally, he starts with her as her attention-hogging was wouldn't stand for anything less, "just back from her spectacular one-night engagement at the 11__th__ street lot will perform tribal chants backwards through her vocoder, accompanying herself on the electric cello…which she ain't never studied." Okay, I get it, we never got much done in our electric cello tutoring but __still__…why is Maureen doing the Macarena? Was she not listening to what Collins said at __**all**__?_

_Roger, never one to miss a chance to mess with me, goes next, actually drawing attention to himself on purpose. "And Mark Cohen will preview his new documentary about his inability to hold an erection on the High Holy Days."_

_Well, that's not nice. Unfortunately, I can't do Roger's yet as he's yet to gravitate towards the random restaurant electric guitar, so I'll do the next best thing and go after his girlfriend. "And Mimi Marquez, clad only in bubble wrap, will perform her famous lawn-chair handcuff dance to the sounds of ice tea being stirred." No, it's not strange that I know her last name and Roger in all likelihood doesn't. And wow, it looks like she really is pantomiming a lawn-chair handcuff dance, good for her. Ah, there Roger goes. "And Roger will attempt to write a bittersweet, evocative song," I announce, turning everyone's attention to Roger. He defiantly plays a few bars back at me. "That…doesn't remind us of Musetta's Waltz," I qualify._

"_Angel Dumott Schunard will model the latest fall fashions from Paris while accompanying herself on the tin-gallon plastic pickle tub," Collins announced, surprising everyone by knowing not just Angel's last name, but her middle name, too. Damn, I don't think I even know Maureen's middle name. This is, naturally, a person failure that must be rectified immediately._

"_And Collins will recount his exploits as anarchist, including the tale of his successful reprogramming of the MIT retro-reality equipment to self-destruct as it broadcasts the words…" Angel calls out as Collins quickly writes the words on a chalk-board that just happens to be there. And wait, 'And Collins'? Does that mean we're not doing Joanne? That's not very nice, not to mention that we've known her just as long as we've known Mimi and we did her. Ah, well, she is my ex's girlfriend, so I suppose I'm not actually obligated to do anything about this injustice._

"_Actual reality, ACT UP, fight AIDS!" everyone sings. Looking over at the chalkboard, however, I see that Collins only scrawled that last point, so how…never mind._

_Mimi glances over at her date, to spot him happily tuning the restaurant guitar and ignoring the world. "Excuse me, did I do something wrong?" she demands, making her way towards him. "I get invited then ignored all night long."_

_Wow, Roger actually puts the guitar down. This must be serious. "I've been trying, I'm not lying," he insists. You know, it really says something when you feel the need to tack on an 'I'm being truthful, I swear!' to the end of what you're saying. Probably because if how he totally ditched her for a guitar the first chance he got, he really hasn't been trying all that hard. "No one's perfect; I've got baggage," he defended himself further. Right, and we __**don't**__?  
_

"_Life's too short, babe, time is flying. I'm looking for baggage that goes with mine," Mimi explains earnestly. So…she wants to see if they match? I guess they're a pretty good-looking couple, yeah. Is that her only criteria?_

"_I should tell you-" Roger starts to confess._

"_I've got baggage too," Mimi interrupts, clearly wanting to make out with my best friend more than play confessional._

"_Should tell you – baggage," Roger repeats, somewhat helplessly._

"_Wine and beer!" everyone shouts as another round of drinks arrive, interrupting the pseudo-love scene._

_A little beeper goes off and Roger reaches down to check it, only to discover the noise came from Mimi. "AZT break," she explains, somewhat awkwardly. So wait…they BOTH have AIDS and Roger didn't want to get involved with her because he didn't think she had it and she wanted to get involved with him without even mentioning it? That's…really a shit thing to do, Mimi._

_Roger doesn't see it that way, though. "You?" he asks, a dreamy look on his face._

"_Me," Mimi admits. "You?"_

_Roger nods vaguely. "Mimi…"_

_With that, he pulls her out into the snow. I would follow them as I'm sure the ensuring conversation will be fascinating, but I don't quite think I could find a place to hide out there without them spotting me. Too bad. And I can't believe their romance is getting jumpstarted by the fact that they're both going to die of a fatal disease and already are on their first date without actually telling the other. Oh well, it takes all kinds, I guess._

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	15. I Should Tell You and La Vie Boheme B

Chapter Fifteen: I Should Tell You and La Vie Boheme B

Disclaimer: I do not own RENT.

Mimi and I stand in the snow just looking at each other for a moment. Since I pulled her outside, I guess that means I should start.

"I should tell you, I'm disaster," I admit. My girlfriends have all met rather tragic ends (not just April, but I blame most of them on Benny, seeing as how he dated all of them first), I'm dying…eventually, and if Mark didn't make me take care of myself, I probably wouldn't bother. "I forget how to begin it." And let's not mention that April and I dated for three years, so it's been four years since I had to worry about starting a relationship. Are we moving too fast? It kind of feels like we are…

"Let's just make this part go faster," Mimi disagreed, pushing me back. Although if she thinks this is slow enough to complain about, I'm getting a bit concerned. I'm still not comfortable with hand-holding yet… "I have yet to be in it." What's that supposed to mean? She hasn't yet been committed to us? She's seems to have put an awful lot of effort into it. Or maybe she's just never dated anyone before? That's hard to believe. I mean, she's nineteen, attractive, outgoing, a stripper…and of course she has probably – as with everyone else I've ever liked – already gone out with Benny. Then again, he's married so it obviously wasn't going anywhere so maybe she doesn't count it as 'dating.' "I should tell you," she confesses.

"I should tell you," I agree. So very, very much. At least we finally got the whole AIDS confession out of the way and let me tell you, that went a lot smoother than I thought it would.

"I should tell you," she insists, clearly wanting to go first.

"I should tell you," I counter, having totally called dibs when she came over to make out with me two nights ago.

Mimi turned away, breaking our silent battle of wills but going first anyway. "I should tell I blew the candle out just to get back in." Really? This is a revelation. I should probably point out that that's sarcasm as anyone who believed that it was a revelation after my CLEARLY incredulous 'it blew out again?' from…three nights ago obviously can't grasp it to save their lives.

I can totally one-up her here and we both know it. "I'd forgotten how to smile until your candle burned my skin." Yes, in case anyone missed that, I'm totally a masochist. Not as much as Mark is, obviously, but is anyone really that surprised?

"I should tell you," Mimi says again, rubbing her shoulders and looking longingly towards the Life Café where her coat lies abandoned on one of the chairs. I wonder what gem she'll have for me this time. Is it that she DIDN'T really lose the key to her apartment so she had to climb in through the window and decided to come visit me the other night? Because I already worked that one out, too.

"I should tell you," I agreed. She really should know about April, but when I tried to bring it up, she got all flustered and blew her candle out again. Possibly because she doesn't want to hear about a young, pretty girl I'm dating dying because of AIDS? Although she had HIV at the time…but still, the similarities must be disconcerting, to say the least.

"I should tell you," she said again. Okay, we've agreed that we should tell each other things…now will we ever get to it? No promises.

"I should tell," Mimi and I say at the same time. I guess I was going to say another 'I should tell you' and she was actually going to tell me something. Ah well, let's try again. "Well here we go." Oh look, we even made the decision to try again simultaneously! We are such a great couple. Why haven't we hooked up yet? It's been three days already! "Now we…"

Crap, what rhymes with 'we' that is one syllable so not to throw off the rhythm and isn't something totally inappropriate like 'pee' or 'whee'.

"Oh, no…" Mimi can't think of anything either. Ah well, that rhymes with 'go' at least. I vote we pretend 'we' never came up and keep going.

"I know this something is," I soldier on. How to best describe our newfound relationship? I'll find something inspiring and profound to say! Any minute now… "Here goes…"

"Here goes," Mimi encourages.

"Guess so it's starting to-" I cut myself off before I can say 'snow' because I realize that it has been snowing since before we even came out. Besides, it's rather romantic – though freezing – and I don't want to jinx it because then it might stop and we'd just be standing here in a pile of snow. SO not romantic. "Who knows?" I quickly amend to make it sound like I'm still attempting to describe our relationship.

"Who knows?" Mimi echoes because she certainly doesn't.

"Who knows where?" We sing this simultaneously while we start to circle each other. "Who goes there?" Now I have no idea what we're talking about or what we're doing, but it's kind of hot, so why not? "Who knows? Here goes…" Okay, now we're going to actually have to start with something original. Think brain, think!

Quickly, I grasp Mimi's hand. That's original. And progress on my 'holding hands' phobia to boot.

"Trusting desire, starting to learn," Mimi and I begin in tandem. You know, she's a really great singing partner. I'm glad I decided to give this relationship a chance. Okay, let's see what we've got so far…we wanted to learn to do something so we are…but what is it that we wanted to do? "Walking through fire without a burn!" Wow, that is kinda kickass. Scratch that, it's** totally **kickass. I should definitely look into doing that…

"Clinging a shoulder a leap begins," we chorus. Oh, wait, are we just learning to jump OVER fire? Because let me tell you right now, that's not nearly as cool. "Stinging and older asleep on pins." …Yeah, that just sounded kind of poetic so we threw it in there. And in rhymes with 'begins'! We didn't want to be stuck with the 'we' situation again.

Speaking of… here's another attempt to tackle it. "So here we go. Now we…"

I've still got nothing. "Oh, no."

"I know," Mimi said gently, as a sort-of singer herself, she's well aware of random rhyming difficulties.

"Oh, no…" This time it's because this really could go somewhere and that is frankly terrifying.

"Who knows where? Who goes there? Here goes." Okay, now I'm going to kiss her. "Here goes. Here goes. Here goes. Here goes. Here goes…" Yes! Finally worked up the nerve to plant one on her.

She just smiled happily. Wow this girl sure is easy to please. Then again, she apparently moves pretty fast – can't say I've noticed – and it _has_ been three days, so…With that, I put my arm around her and we head back inside.

The sing-along portion of the party is apparently over as everyone is just sitting around talking when we come in. Mimi brushed the snow out of her hair while I focused on getting it off my jacket. Then she brushed the snow out of my hair and the whole moment was so fluffy and adorable that I just had to do it again.

Unfortunately for me, I'd forgotten that Collins is, in fact, secretly still in junior high. He spotted us immediately and the first thing he did was say, "That's right, come on", point us out to everyone around him, and then get right up in our personal space just watching us kiss. Naturally, this totally killed the mood, even if Mimi did seem to think it was funny.

_Desperate to salvage something of the totally awesome me-inspired epic event, I watched anxiously as Roger and Collins – perhaps trying to make up for killing things to begin with – grabbed Mimi's hands and helped her onto the bar counter. Since we all know that Mimi is a…dancer, we toasted that. "To dance!"_

"_No way to make a living," was Mimi's first thought on the subject despite the fact that people regularly through around bills no smaller than twenties at her place of employment. But then, all those drugs can't be cheap, I'm sure. "Masochism, pain, perfection." Oh, she's masochistic, too? She and Roger are kind of ill-fitted in that department, then. Not, of course, that I'll tell HIM that as it might encourage him to just quite while Mimi isn't dead and/or involved with Benny. "Muscle spasm, chiropractors, short careers, eating disorders!" Well, yeah, I suppose you can only be a stripper for so long before the next underaged girl comes to take your place, but that seems remarkably forward-thinking for Miss Mimi. Eating disorders could help in the short run, but long-term it will just make the whole aging thing worse. And it's not good for you, obviously, but that's kind of implied from the 'disorder' part of the term. And did Roger just leapfrog over the counter? _

…_Why? Must ask later. In the meantime, it's time for my encore._

"_Film!" people scream obligingly as I get up on the counter. Geez, it's like that's all people know about me. Mark Cohen – cameraman._

"_Adventure, tedium, no family, boring locations, darkrooms, perfect faces, ego, money, Hollywood, and sleaze!" Okay, so maybe I shouldn't have taken the 'word association' approach to this, but then, I kind of used up all my actual valid material earlier during my actual, valid showstopper._

_Angel, of course, followed me because she is wearing a fantastic outfit and hasn't had a chance to showcase it yet. "Music!"_

"_Food of love, emotion, mathematics, isolation." I wonder what the food of love is…I bet it's chocolate…I could really go for some chocolate right now. You know, we never really did get around to eating, did we? Did the waiter even bring our food out or is he tactfully waiting for us to finish? Because it did look like we were done after Roger and Mimi left, but maybe he correctly identified that as the interlude it was. He HAS been working here for quite some time, after all. I'm not sure why in the world 'mathematics' would follow 'emotion' unless that emotion is 'boredom' which isn't really an emotion at all or 'irrational hatred'. "Rhythm, power, feeling, harmony, and heavy competition!" Oh, and now we finally get to the words that actually have anything to do with music. She better not ever try to tell me that math and music are related or else that might just ruin music for me, which would suck as I'm surrounded by people seemingly incapable of going five minutes without bursting into song._

"_Anarchy!" People yell, hoping to get Collins._

_Of course, they do but Maureen has gotten tired of waiting for someone to yell 'Drama Queen' so she gets up there as well, merely mimicking Collins._

"_Revolution, justice, screaming for solutions, facing changes, risk and danger, making noise and making please!" With that Collins hugs Maureen tightly, thrilled to death that he might have finally found a kindred spirit. Wonder if that means he'll hang around more. Of course, I highly doubt that Maureen actually cares about any of that beyond how it will get her more attention and – with luck – on TV but no need to burst poor Collins' bubble._

_Then we throw political correctness completely out the window and go with something that applies to everyone there but Roger, Mimi, and I. "To faggots, lezzies, dykes, cross-dressers too."_

"_To me!" Maureen shouts, apparently not realizing that she falls under the 'lezzies' and 'dyke' category._

"_To me!" I add, since I don't actually fit any of those._

"_To me!" some random guy I may or may not know yells out._

"_To you and you and you, you and you," we all move across the Life Café, pointing to as many people as we can so no one feels left out._

_The six people who are actually important enough for me to know and I huddle around the middle of the table. "To people living with, living with, living with-" Wow, some random black guy just came out of nowhere, lunging at us like he's trying to fill in for Benny or something. I hope Roger doesn't notice. I wonder if Mimi knows about his latent – or not so latent in a certain landlord of ours' case – homicidal tendencies yet? Still, we continue undeterred, "Not dying from disease!"_

"_Let he among us without sin be the first to condemn!" Yep, we've officially pissed off even the most tolerant of Christians by not only unabashedly and blatantly living in sin, throwing a party and singing about it, but now by actually quoting Jesus. It's a good thing everyone in the restaurant is apparently an atheist. Or agnostic, I suppose. _

_Oh, and now we seven important people are dancing on the table while everyone else is relegated to floor-dancing. "La vie Boheme! La vie Boheme!" I'm dancing next to Collins! Oh, wait, Angel picked me up and put me on her other side so SHE'S next to Collins. God, I'm such a lightweight…but that's okay. "La vie Boheme!"_

_Now, to recapture everyone's attention. "Anyone out of the mainstream…is anyone in the mainstream? Anyone alive with a sex drive. Tear down the wall. Aren't we all?" Okay, now Mimi and Roger are ignoring me. It's to be expected, I guess, since they just now got together. Must make self and others feel awkward by interrupting Maureen and Joanne. I tap Joanne on the shoulder. "The opposite of war isn't peace," I inform her gravely, as if she absolutely had to know that this very second._

_Fortunately – or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it – she was in a good mood. She turned towards me, laughing. "What is?"_

"_It's creation," I reply, feeling quite profound. I'm quite proud of myself for that line, actually. War equals destruction, so the opposite of destroying something is creating something new. I'm so brilliant sometimes, I'm in awe of myself. Why don't I have more fangirls again?_

"_La vie Boheme!" Oh, crap, now everything just went all slow-motion on me. Yep, the couples are being all couple-y and I'm left dancing by myself on a table looking like an idiot. Well, Collins and Angel are still dancing but that's only because Angel is so bouncy and they're holding hands and clearly just dancing with each other, Mimi and Roger are making out AGAIN, and Maureen and Joanne are just smiling and holding each other. Now I feel awkward…Again…Story of my life, I swear._

_Suddenly, they all seem to snap out of it as one with one final, "Viva la vie Boheme!"_

_And…now it's all couple-y again but the dancing is over so I'm just standing here looking awkward. At least people are clapping so I can bask in the applause while trying – and failing miserably – to convince myself that I'm not actually feeling out of place._

_Finally, Roger remembers me. He turns around and gives me a big hug. Yay! At least he still loves me. Wait, that didn't come out right…I think…_

Review Please!


	16. Seasons of Love B

Chapter Sixteen: Seasons of Love B

Disclaimer: I do not own RENT.

Note: One change I actually did like that they made in the movie from the Broadway show was that when talking about Buzzline, it's Mark who says that he can't work for them because it's selling out and not Joanne. I mean, the show might be sleazy, but Joanne is a corporate lawyer from an Ivy League school. Surely she can't talk…

_Okay, even though I still don't have any idea whatsoever what to film but somehow footage keeps amassing itself. Maybe if I just keep hanging out with all these drama queens, my movie will make itself. It's a hell of a lot more likely than Roger's song writing itself after all. He never seems to notice that he produces at least two songs a day, but I won't tell him. After all, if he realizes his goal in life is complete, he may decide to just stop bothering and then I might actually have to go back to being Benny's friend and pay rent and get a job and…yeah, Roger must never know the truth!_

_In the meantime, the stairs by our apartment has become a very popular hanging out place. I sure hope Benny wasn't right about all those homeless people relieving themselves, there. Just in case, I won't sit down, just filming all my friends who are. I started this when I actually saw Roger – yes, THAT Roger – laughing when he was out with Angel and Collins. She's a bloody miracle worker, isn't she?_

_Of course, I'm also superimposing that song Maureen made us all sing for her protest against classifying time by months or weeks over the laughter since just a bunch of people laughing would be boring and it was just lying around anyway. She made Benny show up, too, which was kind of awkward as Roger still hates him._

"_Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes. Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear." You know, I bet Maureen made Joanne calculate that for her. _

_Oh, and I also got some footage of Mimi modeling her new leopard coat. Seriously, with all the money that girl spends on heroin and whatever else strikes her fancy…how much does she make at that strip club anyway? I refuse to believe she can't afford rent. And, of course, I'm continuing my mission to film every homeless person in New York._

"_Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes. How do you measure…measure a year?" I'm not entirely sure why we said 'measure' twice. Maybe it was a typo? Anyway, that was the time Angel showed up not in drag to ask about his new nail polish…wait, do I refer to Angel as a guy when not in drag? If only using 'it' didn't sound degrading, my life would be so much easier…_

"_In diapers, report cards, in spoke wheels, in speeding tickets?" I'm still not sure why we can't just measure it in minutes like we have been doing for the rest of the song, but then I didn't write it. Besides, Benny is the only one of us without AIDS in a heterosexual relationship at the moment, so since he doesn't have any kids, chances are we won't either and we're not old enough to need diapers ourselves, so…the no kids means no report cards. Maureen might actually get a speeding ticket as Joanne is too sensible to drive too fast and Benny's too busy trying to be respectable to bother with it. I have a bike, so I __guess__ I could measure a year in how many times I have to change it but…that's kind of inconsistent, right? I mean, some days I don't bike as much as others and if I run over something, the tire is likely to need replacing…besides, I still don't get what's wrong with measuring time by a time interval like, say, minutes._

"_In contracts, dollars, in funerals, in births?" I guess, as a lawyer, Joanne could measure it in contracts. Maybe Benny, too. The rest of us are too free-spirited for real jobs…Mimi might have a contract, though… And most of us don't make enough money to measure it that way. Since our lack of real jobs means no pay day, it's pretty difficult. Half my friends are dying, so I SUPPOSE I could measure time by funerals, but that's kind of depressing. And seriously, highly doubting a birth will occur. "In five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes?" Yes! That's what I've been __**trying **__to tell you! "How do you figure a last year on Earth?" Wow, that's ominous. Oh, crap, it looks like the camera was on Mimi and Roger when those lyrics were playing! I hope nothing happens…_

_And…now we cut to the New Year's celebration. "Figure in love! Figure in love!"_

"_Eight, seven, six, five…" Wait, I thought you were supposed to count down from ten? And I know that none of us has a television because we're too bohemian, but surely Maureen and Joanne do! Why are they here?_

"_Figure in love!" Wait, this song turned into something about math? When did that happen? This makes about as much sense as Maureen's acid trip about Cyberland._

"_Four, three, two, one!" Happy New Year! Everyone's hugging and kissing everyone and despite the fact that this isn't just restricted to cuples…I'm still the odd one out. Why does this keep happening?!?!_

"Measure in love! Seasons of love…Seasons of love…" With that Maureen's crappy song about God knows what ends and we can celebrate the fact that we're all actually still alive in peace. Mark wouldn't understand, but this is a big achievement for those of all who have been dying for years.

"Hey Mimi! Mimi! Mimi!" Mark gets Mimi's attention through sheer force of annoyance seeing as how she was rather busy making out with me. "Give me your New Year's resolutions."

Mimi laughs like she can't believe that Mark just asked her that. "I'm giving up my vices. I'm going back to school."

"Oh, that's very good," Mark says, sounding impressed. I'd be more happy for her if Mimi hadn't told me the other day that she feels the whole point of New Year's resolutions are to break them as fast as she possibly can. So…I guess this means she's not actually going to do anything different, then? "How about you, Roger?"

Trying not to follow Mimi's example – but let's face it, at the rate I'm going I probably will – I shrugged and say, "Finish a song."

Mark looks slightly panicked at that. Strange… "Yeah, maybe this year?"

I give him the middle finger and walk on, leaving him to interrogate the next couple.

"And who are you two supposed to be?" Mark asked Angel and Collins. Uh, no, Mark. Very tacky. You don't ask who they are SUPPOSED to be. That's like asking a child what their drawing is supposed to be. They're going to get offended no matter how badly drawn it is or how obscure the costume. Instead, you are supposed to say 'tell me about it.'

Fortunately, Collins and Angel are pretty good-natured people in general.

"Bond. James Bond," Collins said, staggering a little. He is SO drunk.

"And Pussy Galore," Angel adds, giggling. "In person."

"Very nice," Mark nods, letting them walk by as he turns his attention to – who else – Maureen. "Ooh lal la…" Wait…so he didn't ask them about their New Year's resolutions? The hell? I knew I should have dressed up… I was going to be Emo Man but Mimi couldn't find her eyeliner…Maybe I should have asked Angel.

Maureen, naturally, felt the need to freak Mark out by pantomiming drop-kicking his camera. How did they stay together for so long? "What do you want, huh?" she asked, smiling and faux-kissing the camera.

"Well, you can take the girl out of Hicksville but you can't take the Hicksville out of the girl," Mark noted. Wait…that's kind of random. Is it because she's in a spandex cat suit or something? I don't get it…maybe it's an inside joke?

As they were the last of the procession, Mark elected to walk with them.

"Heard you got a job offer," Maureen said awkwardly as Joanne took yet another swig of alcohol. That girl is really getting drunk, huh?

"No," Mark denied, even though it was totally true. "It was just that sleazy news show Buzzline wants to take a meeting."

"We're gonna need an agent!" Maureen announces, excited.

"'We?'" Mark asks, sounding amused.

"Hey, listen, mister," Maureen tells him, dancing ahead to avoid Joanne's drunk, possessive hand on her ass. "I am the reason you got on TV in the first place. Oh, my God!" Uh-oh…Maureen's ideas usually end in someone either getting arrested or an explosion. Or both. "You know what? We'll do another protest?" About WHAT? CyberArts? No one cares, Maureen. If it weren't for Mr. Grey's extreme reaction and Benny's fear of an explosion, no one probably would have shown up. "And this time, you can shoot the entire thing for the TV show." Right, because that doesn't sound staged at all.

Joanne caught up with Maureen and tried to claim her again, but Maureen batted her off, her attention still on Mark, who was squirming uncomfortably. "No, I'm not interested. I'm sorry."

"What?" Maureen whined, looking crushed. Does she even really care beyond getting herself on TV more?

"Because working for a show like Buzzline…" Mark trailed off, trying to think of an appropriate way to describe the horrors of doing so. "That's completely selling out." Oh, now he's done it. He's invoked the two heinous words that there are no counter to, unless Maureen wishes to become like, dare I say it, _Benny_.

Maureen groaned, looking defeated even as she danced ahead a few more steps. She really can't stand it when people get clingy. "Okay…" she conceded. "But it's nice to dream."

"Well, maybe," Mark said neutrally.

Finally getting fed up of Joanne's drunken yet silent jealousy, Maureen grabbed Mark's camera and stayed safety ten feet away. Wow, brave girl… "Give me that! I'm sick and tired of you always-"

"Maureen…you're going to break it," Mark complained, showing clearly that he's still in love with her as he didn't immediately tackle her and grab it back. Or maybe it's because Joanne might misinterpret it and he's scared she'd kick his ass.

"HI, Mark!" Maureen greeted him mockingly. "Happy New Year!"

"This is not my Bar Mitzvah!" Mark said, advancing on her. I can sense there's a story somewhere…

- -

_Several hours later, I finally got my camera back and we headed back to the apartment. Even Maureen and Joanne, for some reason. At some point during the night, Joanne had run out of alcohol and as she started to sober up, she got progressively grumpier. _

_Roger and Mimi were still in front. "Out of all the years I've been in New York, I've never gone to Times Square for New Year's," Roger was telling Mimi._

"_Really?" Mimi sounded amused._

"_I don't think I wanna do it again," Roger confided. "I think that was enough."_

"_It was a little like a moo-fest," Mimi conceded. I hoped to God that Maureen didn't hear that lest she start another impromptu protest about Elsie._

_Suddenly, Roger stopped and stared at the door in horror. "Mark?"_

_Uh-oh… "What?" I asked nervously._

"_Check out the door," Roger indicated the silver object adorning our door._

"_What the hell is that?" I asked, moving closer to inspect it. "Guys, there's a padlock on the door." Does…not…compute…_

"_Benny," Angel deduced. "Hold on. Hold this, honey," she said, handing her bag off to Collins and walking towards the conveniently placed trash can right outside of the building. "I saw this on television. Watch."_

"_Baby, what you doing?" Collins slurred as Angel picked up the trashcan, turned it upside down, and started shaking the trash out of it._

"_You'll see," she sing-songed, "be careful now." With that, she picked up the trashcan and headed towards the door._

"_You're drunk," Collins accused, as though he were one to talk. I think I may possibly be the only sober one in the group right now._

"_No, I'm not," Angel lied. "Okay, watch." She banged the trash can on the lock. "That's so heavy."_

"_Watch your fingers," I cautioned but made no move to stop her. Another bang and the lock was gone._

_Everyone cheered but I couldn't help but feel a little disheartened. Sure, it's great to be able to get back in the building, but that seemed almost…__**too**__ easy. I was planning out an elaborate break-in party where we'd use rope to lower ourselves in or blowtorches to destroy the door…Stupid Benny and his stupid crappy security…crap, now I sound like Roger!_

"_That's my girl," Collins said proudly._

"_Yeah," Mimi congratulated her best friend. "NOTHING like Pussy."_

"_Let's go," Angel said, leading the way._

"_Here you go, baby," Collins handed her purse back._

"_Thank you," Angel accepted it graciously. "Door open."_

"_That's a full-service woman you got there," Roger remarked, sounding a little envious._

"_That was great," Mimi said happily._

"_Gonna put that trash can back?" Collins inquired._

"_No."_

_Our euphoria lasted until we reached our apartment. Roger and I entered first and just wordlessly wandered in, wondering where all of our stuff went. Who would want to rob US? Of all people? We don't even pay rent!_

"_Oh, daaaaaaamn…" Collins said when he saw the sorry state of our place._

"_Typical," Angel remarked._

"_He took all our stuff…" Roger said sounding, dare I say it, SHOCKED. You'd think he'd expect if from Benny by now, seeing as how he's convince he's evil._

"_Mine too," Mimi drawled, reaching our apartment after apparently having already checked hers. How did she do it that fast? Were Roger and I frozen in horror for THAT long?_

"_What a frigging sweetheart," Maureen growled, a bag of chips materializing in her hands. Okay, seriously, we couldn't have been out of it for THAT long. Hm, she'll plan another protest about this?  
_

"_What do we do now?"I ask, throwing my hands in the air. I mean, besides actually paying rent, of course. Seriously, I'm open to suggestions at this point, people._

"_Well," Joanne offered, sobering up quickly now that her legal advice was in demand, "technically now that you're inside you're squatters. You can't be arrested. Benny can't throw you out on the street. It'll give you and Roger time to get some money together."_

_Wait…so after we break and enter we can't be arrested if we don't leave and we can't be evicted? Sweet! Why in the world would we get some money together if we can just stay here for free anyway? I mean, yeah, our stuff's gone, but you can't have everything, right?_

_Roger made a face to show he wouldn't be contributing and Collins started laughing as he pulled his sunglasses down, knowing there was only one option left open to me. Hopefully, as long as nobody said it, I could just ignore it._

_Naturally, Maureen took it upon herself to crush my hopes._

"_There's always Buzzline," she pointed out, crunching a chip._

_Why do I love her again?_

Review Please!


	17. Take Me or Leave Me

Chapter Seventeen: Take Me or Leave Me

Disclaimer: I do not own RENT.

"_Oh, my God, my stomach doesn't feel right," I complain as Joanne leads me to my doo-er, Buzzline. For some reason, Maureen feels the need to accompany us. Personally, I think she's just afraid that we'll get sick of her blatant cheating and seek solace in each other. Of course, unless Joanne is bi that's just not going to happen, but paranoia is never rational. Speaking of, I think Roger might have poisoned me in a vain attempt to 'save' me from selling out. Of course, whether this is my paranoia or his is really up for debate._

"_You'll be fine," Joanne said dismissively, clearly showing just how much she wants to jump me. Or so I just know Maureen is suspecting._

"_Is what I'm wearing okay?" I ask nervously. "Does this look right?" I've never really had a job interview, or contract-negotiation, really, before._

"_Yeah, you look really good," Maureen interrupts Joanne's attempts to reassure me, probably convinced that anything nice Joanne says to me will increase our chances of finding love together. "Do you think this belt is too much, though?" Oh, and also because Maureen is not physically capable of going thirty seconds without trying to draw attention back to herself and she IS the extraneous one here since I'm the client and Joanne is my representative. _

"_I can't do this," I decide, turning around and heading back to the apartment. Or trying to, anyway. "I can't do this."_

_Joanne grabs on to my arm and turns me back around. "Yes, you can. I'll do all the talking," she promises. Wow, she sure is being nice to me AND she agreed to represent me for free. I guess it's because this is All Maureen's Fault. And also because she doesn't want that footage I have of her drunk out of her mind from New Year's to get out. It's what she gets for getting drunk around a known serial cameraman, really._

"_What are you doing?" I ask as Joanne fixes my tie._

"_Stop fussing," Maureen demands, annoyed, pulling Joanne away from me. "We're late." Wow, that's got to be the first time Maureen has ever cared about that. Ever. Usually she just expects the world to wait around for her. It's funny how SHE'S the jealous one this time, but I just know that it's __**not **__going to end well. At all._

"_Oh my God, __look__ at this place," I say disgustedly, staring up at the skyscraper we're about to enter._

"_Yeah, it's Corporate America," Joanne the Ivy-League-Lawyer is insensitive to my plight. "Welcome."_

_Joanne walked authoritatively off the elevator acting like she owned the place. Maureen followed, eyeing all her potential new flirt-buddies and I trudged along, wishing I could disappear. "Hi," Joanne said._

"_Hi," Maureen echoed needlessly._

"_We're here to see Alexi Darling," Joanne explained to the blonde receptionist._

"_Your name, please?" she asked professionally._

"_Joanne Jefferson and Mark Cohen," Joanne replied._

"_And Maureen Johnson," Maureen added softly, pointing at the receptionist's appointment book._

"_Maybe you should wait out here," Joanne suggested hesitantly, knowing that that wouldn't go over too well._

_Maureen shot a surprised glance at me, then smiled uncertainly at Joanne. "But-But I'm the one who-" Who did what? Held the performance that the riot I filmed was for? That doesn't really require she be present for my contract negotiation._

"_We don't want to come on too strong," Joanne said seriously. I wonder why Joanne even let Maureen come along and run the risk of her causing a scene if she wasn't going to let her come into the actual meeting. Plus, this is really kind of embarrassing for Maureen. And an embarrassed Maureen is a vengeful Maureen._

"_Alexi, Joanne Jefferson and Mark Cohen here to see you," the receptionist said, breaking up the tension. It appears the issue of whether or not Maureen was going in was decided for us._

"_Okay, fine," Maureen conceded, smiling at the receptionist. She raised her eyebrows. "Whatever."_

_The receptionist had a frozen smile on her face, clearly having no idea what she was in for._

_Still, it was no longer my concern, this meeting with Alexi was._

"_How much did I LOVE your footage?" Alexi gushed. "So much," she answered. Apparently, that was rhetorical, which was good as I honestly had no idea how much she loved it. Enough to harass me about working for her? "It reminded me of my Berkley days," she explained. "Fighting the good fight. Kudos. Kudos."_

"_Thank you," I said dully. I wonder how soon it will be before Roger decides I'm Benny's apprentice…maybe I should get back in touch with him. He could help me with the transition to 'responsible member of society'… "I wanted to let you know that I've also been working on a documentary…" I trailed off, trying to decide what my epic film of everything I've ever done for the last two weeks or so was even about. "About the homeless and people with HIV," I decided. Since all our stuff got stolen and we're squatting in our own apartment, we're technically homeless and half of us have HIV anyway._

_Joanne smiled at me, but was soon distracted by the sound of loud giggling. Maureen was sitting on the receptionist's desk and playing with her – the receptionist's – earrings. Of COURSE she was. Really, you can't take that girl anywhere._

"_Great!" Alexi enthused. "So fresh, edgy. Everything Buzzline's about."_

"_Really?" Even Joanne couldn't hide her incredulity._

"_We may dip into the tabloid side," Alexi admitted, laughing. "Guilty as charged! But we __are__ a news show. And your client has a fresh eye to bring real stories to an audience and that's what we want. We get the real programming, he gets the network exposure. Not a bad way to start a career by the way…So. What do you think?"_

_Panicked, I looked over at Joanne, but she was nodding absentmindedly with a fixed smile on her face as she watched Maureen continue to flirt over-the-toply with the receptionist. Did they even introduce themselves-? Whatever, I have bigger problems. Namely, this is all starting to sound so very, very reasonable and I feel that my soul is in grave danger._

"_Yes," Joanne snapped back to the meeting. "What about salary?"_

"_On commission," Alexi replied promptly. "On an escalating scale. Start at $3000."_

_Joanne looked at me and I grimaced. Why am I even here?_

_Misunderstanding my distaste, Alexi says bluntly, "You're not going to get a better deal than that."_

_Reluctantly, I agree. Does this girl not know how haggling is supposed to work? You NEVER start with the final deal._

_Looking similarly disappointed, Joanne says, "We'll take it."_

_I walk out of the building in a daze. Joanne runs to catch up with me and throws her arm around me. "Congratulations," she beams._

_Maureen also hurries to catch up, not looking pleased._

"_I sold my soul," I complained._

"_For three grand a segment," Joanne points out, seeing nothing wrong about this._

"_You ain't got nothing without my protest," Maureen insists, clearly not caring about my inner turmoil._

"_Does EVERYTHING have to be about you?" Joanne finally demands, voicing what everyone who has spent longer than two minutes in Maureen's company has asked themselves._

"_Me?" Maureen sounded affronted. "You're the one helping my ex-boyfriend." I'm not quite sure how that's supposed to refute Joanne's statement. Is she saying she has to be involved because she and Joanne are dating and she and I used to date so she's the link between us? We've spent enough time together over the last two weeks that we kind of no longer need her to hang around making us play nice. We bonded quite nicely during our impromptu tango session, thank you very much. Of course, since we were mostly just complaining about what a crappy girlfriend Maureen was, we never actually got around to telling her about that, did we?_

"_He need a lawyer," Joanne pointed out reasonably. _

_Maureen scoffed and rolled her eyes._

"_I figured I could help them out, since __you_ _got them evicted," Joanne sniped. Now she's done it. We were all pretending that didn't happen as Maureen refused to be even remotely apologetic about it as she simply does not see this as her fault._

"_You know what?" Maureen said spitefully. "Why don't the two of you get an accountant's ledger and a bottle of champagne and go at it." Ha! I knew it!_

"_Invite the girl you were just flirting with to join us and I will," Joanne shot back, revealing the true reason behind her ire. Hm, does that mean she's bi after all? I'd ask, but Maureen would probably kick my ass._

"_Oh, my God. Come on , Pookie!" Maureen still doesn't get that I gave Joanne a near-pathological hatred of that nickname, does she? And now that Maureen knows that this is all just one big misunderstanding – to her – her own annoyance has completely dissipated. _

"_Oh my God," Joanne muttered, shocked that Maureen doesn't get why she's upset._

"_What do you want, huh?" Maureen demanded. "I'll do anything. You want me to be your salve? You want me to just obey your every wish?" She grabbed Joanne's arm and spun her around. She's really good with grand gestures, but that's not really what Joanne's looking for here. Sensing they were about to have a Moment, I busied myself with my bike lock. "Tell me what you want!"_

"_Commitment," Joanne bit out, expecting to have Maureen laugh in her face._

_Which she totally did, but not for the reason we were both expecting. "That's all?" she said, like it was no big thing. "Why didn't you just say so in the first place?"_

"_What?" Joanne was confused and understandably so. Maureen was okay with NOT flirting with everything that moved, but it hadn't occurred to her that Joanne would be interested in that?_

"_All you have to do is ask," Maureen promised. "And I'm yours." WOW, this is uncomfortable. Why won't my lock open any faster? I do NOT need to be here for this!_

_Joanne had to blink several times before she could start, trying not to cry. "Will you commit to me?" she asked, dubious but hopeful. "To be with __only__ me for the rest of our lives?"_

_Wait, now it's a marriage proposal? They've only been together two months! "I will," Maureen said grinning, getting down on one knee. Isn't the proposer supposed to get down on one knee, not the one accepting? Whatever. "I do." She took off one of her eight rings and slid it onto Joanne's ring finger._

_Joanne pulled Maureen to her feet and they shared a tender kiss._

_And I had to watch all of it._

"_This can't be happening…" _

I've only been here twenty minutes and I'm already wondering why on Earth I'm in the Greenwich Hills Country Club. The music alone is just so…_tasteful _that it's giving me a headache.

Joanne's father got all of our attention by using his knife to tap on his champagne glass. Looking up at him, I was immediately distracted by his wife's strange hat. It's just…really, really bizarre.

"I'd like to welcome everyone and congratulate my daughter Joanne," Joanne's father beamed. "On—One her wonderful choice of a life partner, Maureen Johnson." Wow, I wonder if he's ever actually met her before today? If he had, he might have had a bit more to say about this. Maureen, for instance, is already experiencing a fear of commitment as she mouthed 'life partner' and then took a long sip of her champagne.

"My husband and I would also like to welcome Maureen's parents, Eddie and Nancy Johnson, into our family," Joanne's mother says warmly. "Would everyone please stand?" Once everyone did, she continued, "And let's raise a glass to toast the future of Joanne and Maureen."

"Hear, hear!"

"Cheers!" Everyone started toasting like crazy. When's the food going to be here? That's the only reason I showed up, after all. Well, that and Mimi wanted to come, but she doesn't really know either of the life partner ceremony people so she's my date.

"I love you baby," Maureen whispered to Joanne as she pulled back out of a very lame kiss and immediately turned to her mother and hugged her. "Thanks, Mom."

"You got engaged!" Collins told Joanne, still in shock. We just really can't believe it, even after listening to Mark's traumatized account half a dozen times, each funnier than the last.

"Thanks, Dad," Maureen hugged her dad, still avoiding her new life partner. This does not bode well.

After accepting Collins' congratulations, Maureen immediately made her way over to the bar, wiping off her mouth. Wiping off Joanne's kiss? Wow, there's going to be a blowout immediately after we all leave, isn't there?

"Got anything stronger than this?" Maureen asked desperately, chugging a glass of champagne.

"Only champagne and wine, unfortunately," the mousy bar worker replied in a whiney sort of voice.

Maureen let out a nearly-hysterical giggle. "Hi."

Uh-oh…I turned to Mark to point out that if Joanne caught wind of this, the massive blowout would be taking place **now**, but he was busy being the graceful 'loser.' Although if it meant he didn't have to be married to Maureen the commitment phobic flirting wonder, I'm not so sure he's really the one who lost here. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love Maureen to death, I really do, but there's no way in HELL I would ever agree to date her.

Joanne looked really happy, almost as if she thought a commitment ceremony might actually stop Maureen's philandering ways. "Thank you."

"You know," Mark said quietly, a small smile on her face. "Maureen didn't even let me really congratulate her yet." You know why that might be, Mark? Because she's been freaking out since practically the minute the engagement happened!

Joanne looked down. "I know, because…"

Maureen's loud giggling drew their attention. She was leaning over and playing with the bar tender's necklace. "Where'd you get this necklace?" she asked innocently.

"Oh, just downtown," the bar tender replied vaguely.

Mark kept right on smiling, probably realizing at last that he dodged a bullet. Joanne's eyes hardened as she watched the two of them laughing it up. "Could you excuse me for a minute?" she asked and stormed off towards Maureen without even waiting for an answer.

"Hi," Joanne greeted the bar tender with a tight smile. Seriously, that girl should know better than to flirt with someone who just had a commitment ceremony AT the reception of said ceremony, but I guess Maureen really doesn't take 'no' for an answer. "Could you excuse us for a minute?"

"Hi, baby," Maureen said drunkenly. Wow, she got THAT drunk in two minutes? No way, not with that watered-down selection. She must have had quite a bit before even getting here.

"Thank you," Joanne said, dragging Maureen off to the side.

"What's up?" At least Maureen seems happier now, even if she is STILL drinking.

"What the hell are you doing?" Joanne demanded, clearly trying to reign in her temper.

"What?" Maureen asked defensively. "We were just talking." I think the fact that she knows EXACTLY what Maureen was talking about means that she totally knew exactly what she was doing. On the other hand, when people ask her what the hell she's doing, it usually means she's either flirting with someone in front of her significant other or pulling some crazy stunt and since she really WAS just talking, it's safe to assume it was the former.

"Right," Joanne agreed sarcastically.

Maureen looked somewhat exasperated, probably sick to death of constantly defending herself of accusations of flirting. Although, oddly enough, not sick enough to actually stop flirting. "Pookie, we were just talking!" Ah, and she used the dreaded P-word! Seriously, how has that girl not noticed that Joanne flinches every time she's called that? Mark always smiles a little when that happens, so I blame him, but he's not talking.

"Maureen, please, do not do this today," Joanne begged.

Sadly, Maureen took this as a challenge. Of COURSE she did, she's Maureen. "Excuse me, sir, can you hold this, please?" she asked immediately, handing her champagne glass off to a man at the table next to her. Kind of weird that they're having an argument in front of the piano player and the two tables next to it, but…Also, why couldn't she have just set her drink down instead of making some poor guy hold it when God knows she's not going to remember to come back for it.

"Certainly," the guy in question said, accepting the glass.

"Thanks," Maureen said absently before turning on Joanne, eyes blazing. "You know what, Miss Ivy League? I can't take much more of this. This…obsessive-compulsive, control-freak paranoia." The sad thing is, I think Maureen actually believes that Joanne's the one with the problem. And sure, she might be a bit controlling, but given what Maureen does with an inch, can you blame her?

"What?" Joanne asked, incredulous, not sure how she became the bad guy in this situation.

"I didn't pierce my nipples because it grossed you out," Maureen said, sounding as if this was a huge sacrifice. Though coming from Maureen, who does whatever she feels like, whenever she feels like, it's the truest declaration of love. "I didn't stay at the Kink Club last night because _you_ wanted to go home."

"You were flirting with the woman in rubber," Joanne pointed out, mortified that Maureen was quickly gaining peoples' attention.

"There will always be women in rubber flirting with me!" Maureen shouted, successfully drawing everyone else's attention. For our part, Collins looks horrified but not particularly surprised, Angel looks concerned, Mark looks resigned, and Mimi looks like this is making her day. I guess it's kind of funny. Poor Joanne, though… "Give me a break!" Like she's an innocent victim in everyone's plans to seduce her. I chance a glance at the happy couple's parents. Maureen's parents also look embarrassed and are pointedly ignoring the questioning stares of Joanne's parents.

Maureen, being Maureen, decides to start singing out her problems with Joanne and why she isn't at all at fault in any manner. "Every single day, I walk down the street. I hear people say 'Baby's so sweet.'" So…her justification for causing a huge scene at her commitment ceremony reception is…she's hot? That sounds about right for Maureen. "Ever since puberty, everybody stares at me. Boys, girls, I can't help it baby."

Joanne, who realizes that all of that is completely besides the point but there's no reasoning with her when she's singing, just turns and walks away. Uh-oh. You can't do that. You're just supposed to stand there and take it, no matter how awful it is, because if you DO…she finds a way to keep your attention.

Maureen's response was pretty tame, but then, Joanne hadn't gotten very towards the exit yet. "So be kind and don't lost your mind." She did grab Joanne and force her to start dancing to the music of her 'stop being such a jealous prick' singing rant. "Just remember that I'm your baby. Take me for what I am, who I was mean to be. And if you give a damn, take me baby…or leave me." With that, Maureen ruined all her hard-earned 'force Joanne to stay and listen to avoid further embarrassment' work by placing Joanne's hands on her breasts. Angrily, Joanne turned to leave again.

Maureen wasn't done, though, not nearly. "Take me baby or leave me." With that, she climbed on top of the table with the ice sculptures. Joanne turned around at the sound of dozens of gasps from presumably Joanne's friends, as none of Maureen's should be even remotely surprised by this recent turn of events. "A tiger in a cage can NEVER see the sun," Maureen said, taking off her jacket and placing it around the ice sculpture's shoulders. Unless, of course, it's an outdoor cage. Or there's a window. But, you know, whatever. And is she wearing a dragon T-shirt? Awesome, though not particularly wedding-appropriate. Kind of makes you wonder what Maureen did want to wear if Joanne was okay with her going in that. "This diva needs her stage!" Really, never would have guessed. "Baby let's have fun!" Hate to break it to you, but I don't quite think this is Joanne's idea of a good time. I mean, she probably has work acquaintances here and everything! She probably gets enough flak for just being a lesbian, to say nothing of being a lesbian with a crazy, drama queen partner.

"You are the one I choose, folks would kill to fill your shoes," Maureen lectured. Good start there, Maureen, reminding Joanne that even if you are a compulsive flirter, Joanne's the one you really love, but then you had to go and ruin it by telling Joanne she should just deal because you could replace her in a heartbeat. That's not going to go over well. "You love the limelight too now, baby," Maureen insisted as Joanne took the jacket off of the ice sculpture. Joanne may like it a little, especially since she agreed to date you, but not nearly as obsessively or restriction-free as you do. Maureen got off the table then and started lifting up her shirt by inches. "So be mine, and don't waste my time crying 'Oh, honey bear, are you still my, my, my baby?'"

Joanne, who was chasing her errant partner around the ice sculpture table, said sternly, "Don't you dare!" before storming off again.

Having gotten the reaction she wanted, Maureen surprisingly acquiesced, but only so she could run after Joanne. "Take me for what I am, who I was meant to be. And if you give a damn. Take me baby or leave me." Joanne had reached the stairs by this time and was only feet away from leaving Maureen to her own crazy devices. Of course, the more curious among the guests – including us – had followed the pair out, hoping to see some more sparks flying, especially when Joanne finally responded.

"No way can I be what I'm not," Maureen pointed out as Joanne finally turned around to face her. "But hey, don't you want your girl hot?" I'm sure she does, but that still doesn't explain why you can't ever juts turn the flirting off. "Don't fight, don't lose your head cause every night who's in your bed?" So…Maureen honestly thinks her behaviors okay and Joanne should just deal with it because they have sex? Really? "Who?" Maureen demanded an answer, crawling up the stairs to her lover. "Who's in your bed? Kiss, Pookie," she begged.

As if Joanne could possibly agree to kiss and make up after Maureen ruined their reception, clearly doesn't intend to change her behavior in the slightest, and doesn't even feel any remorse over it. Joanne decides to fight song with song, which will really only serve to escalate things, but could be entertaining. "It won't work," Joanne says, shaking her fingers at Maureen and pulling her to her feet. "I look before I leap." Well, except when she agreed to marry Maureen after only going out for a few months and thinking that would solve all of their various issues. "I love margins and discipline. I make lists in my sleep, baby, what's my sin?" Some people would say it's being a lesbian, but clearly not any of the people who showed up today, so I'm going to go with 'being an enabler.' Happens to the best of us. Mark, for instance, enables everyone he's ever met.

"Never quit, I follow through," Joanne declares. "I hate mess but I love you," she says paradoxically as she puts her hand on Maureen's thigh who, despite her earlier initiation of close physical contact, slaps her hand away. Seriously, though, Maureen pretty much defines 'mess' as she has no real concern for the consequences of her actions and gets high off of the attention, any kind of attention. "What to do with my impromptu baby? So be wise, cause this girl satisfies," Joanne said, rubbing up against Maureen, who looked amused as hell that her plan to make Joanne help her make a scene was succeeding so perfectly. "You've got a prize so don't compromise, you're one lucky baby!" With that, Joanne took off her jacket and threw it. Maureen, for whatever reason, reached out and caught it. "Take me for what I am!" Joanne sang, spreading her arms wide and making her way back down the stairs.

"A control freak," Maureen mutters. That's not very nice, Maureen. She let you have your say…although that was mostly just because she was trying to pretend she had married someone a little less crazy, so…

"Who I was meant to be," Joanne continued to blatantly rip off what Maureen had said earlier, ignoring Maureen herself, who was still making smart remarks.

"A snot, yet over-attentive." That's strange, I really didn't get any snobby vibes from her. Perhaps she's a secret snob? I mean, for God's sake, she regularly hangs out with the homeless!

"And if you give a damn…" Joanne turned to face Maureen at last.

"A loveable droll geek," Maureen was saying. At least that's **somewhat** positive, right?

"Take me, baby, or leave me." When Maureen was saying it, she was just demanding Joanne to accept her. When Joanne did, it sounded like an ultimatum. This could be bad.

"An anal-retentive!" Maureen was clearly taking this as a threat.

"That it!" they both shouted, entering into a new room.

"The straw that breaks my back," Joanne said. It's kind of sad that she reached her breaking point at her wedding reception, but then, maybe it's the fact that it WAS her wedding reception that did it.

"I quit," both girls declared.

"Unless you take it back," Joanne qualified. Please, like Maureen would ever go and do a sensible thing like apologize. Still, nice showing of backbone by Joanne. God knows Mark would never even THINK of pulling something like this. Joanne really is better for Maureen than he was, so too bad it's imploding so quickly. It was probably inevitable, though.

"Women," they both lamented.

"What is it about them?" Maureen demanded, grabbing a pool cue from one of the staff and throwing her arm around his shoulders.

"Can't live with them or without them!" both said as Maureen released the guy and threw the pool cue back at him, leaving the poor man to stumble away, dazed. "Take me for what I am! Who I was meatn to be! And if you give a damn…"

"You better take me baby, oh take me, baby!" Maureen said, crawling across the pool table towards Joanne. She really does crawl a lot in front of Joanne, huh? Makes you wonder…and why on Earth did Maureen wear spandex to this thing? "Or leave me. Take me or leave me!"

"Take me, baby, or leave me," the girls told each other sternly. And despite the fact that they both seem to want exactly the same thing: namely, to be accepted as they were, this seems an impossible task as they each storm off towards a different exit. Notably, Joanne took the one that **didn't** involve her having to face the huge crowd that had gathered, while Maureen just brushed right past us. "Guess I'm leaving. I'm gone."

There was an awkward silence, broken only by the sounds of Joanne and Maureen's high heels receding. Joanne's parents looked horrified. As for Maureen's parents…

"Maybe now you two can get back together," Nancy said hopefully, turning towards Mark.

"Wow," Mimi laughed.

Put on the spot and – for once – not really interested, Mark sputtered out, "Well, actually, I'm-"

Deciding to be nice for a change, I rescued him. "Come on, let's go."

This reception was awful. The couple didn't even make it to the free food!

Review Please!


	18. Without You, I’ll Cover You, Halloween

Chapter Eighteen: Without You, I'll Cover You, and Halloween.

Disclaimer: I do not own RENT.

_As Angel and Collins and Mimi and Roger were…busy celebrating the joys of love after that stirring display at Maureen and Joanne's reception, I lead the way into our apartment. The sight was shocking, to say the least._

"_Hey, guys, all our shit's back," I announced. It was just thrown everywhere, but at least we didn't have to not pay to replace it. It's good to know that our actions don't actually have long-term consequences. I'd hate to think what would happen if someone tried to make us learn some sort of lesson from all of this. Oh, crap, Benny's here! This is probably his doing but…Roger's here, so this has the potential to end badly. VERY badly. "Benny, what's going on?" I asked cautiously._

"_I'm here to put an end to this war," Benny replied seriously, standing to greet us. Ah, look at that! He missed us! And I missed having possessions!_

"_What changed your mind?" Roger asked, actually smiling as he approached Benny. I was, frankly, in shock that they were able to get within five feet of each other without Roger attempting to kill him. But it couldn't last, naturally._

"_Mimi did, actually," Benny replied. Roger's smile faded and he turned to look at Mimi, betrayed. For her part, she shifted her bag to her other shoulder and looked uncomfortable. "We hadn't seen each other in a while." Well, not unless you count our impromptu 'La Vie Boheme' celebration, but I suppose they didn't really get a chance to catch up there. "So we had dinner, we talked…and she convinced me to rethink the situation." As Roger was still staring at Mimi, wounded, Benny took a chance and stepped closer to him. "Look, I regret the unlucky circumstances-"_

"_Circumstances?" Roger cut him off, deigning to turn his attention back to our somewhat-friend at last. "Benny, you padlocked our door and you took all of our stuff!" Roger pointed out, reasonably for once._

"_Right," Benny acknowledged, impressing me by not actually making any excuses for his behavior. I mean, he was well within his rights legally and he did warn us that would happen, but it was still a total friendship-killer thing of him to do. "Which is why I'm here offering a new lease. All right? Rent free, courtesy of CyberArts. You might want to get this on film."_

"_Oh, I see, this is a photo opportunity," Roger complained, still mad that Mimi and Benny knew each other and no doubt constructing various sordid scenarios in his head. Not that I blame him for being paranoid, though, considering that to this date Roger hasn't had a single girlfriend that Benny hasn't dated first. Given the odds of this happening EVERY SINGLE TIME, I kind of wonder just how many people Benny's dated…Poor Allison…_

"_The benevolent god ushers the poor artists back to their flat," Collins drawled lazily. "Brought to you by your friendly neighborhood CyberArts." Wait…since when is Collins mad at Benny? He didn't even do anything to him! Or is he just getting into the spirit of things? "Full story tonight on Buzzline."_

"_It's not like that Collins," Benny protested and I'm inclined to believe him. Chances are his sensible business partners and investors would be pissed if they found out he was just giving away an apartment to his friends who refuse to get jobs or even be very nice to him most of the time._

_Now, normally I am __**all**__ for accepting free stuff, but after Collins' Buzzline quip, I realized that if I sell out anymore, I would TOTALLY lose all street cred, so reluctantly I reached into my pocket and pulled out my checkbook. Yes, I have a __checkbook__. Depressing, I know. "Look, we don't need your charity," I said grudgingly, handing over my first paycheck. We would really, really appreciate it and have, in fact, been l living off of it for some time, but you should have made us this offer two weeks ago before I had to go and lower myself to becoming a productive member of society. "Should cover us for a little while." Or, for the rest of probably everyone but me's life given how cheap rent is. Why don't we pay it again? Oh, right, a matter of principle. _

_As Benny stared uncomprehendingly at the money that I had just given him, Roger shot a final pained look at Mimi before dramatically but silently exiting the room. "Where'd you get this?" Benny asked at last. What, does he think I stole it or something?_

"_It's my first advance," I explain with a strained smile._

"_Okay…congratulations," Benny offered up a half-hearted smile at what he seemed to think was a good thing, before awkwardly leaving. One of these days we have GOT to actually hash things out. He stopped before reaching the door and made one last half-hearted attempt to reach out to Roger, no doubt realizing that once Roger came around, the rest of us wouldn't care if he wanted to be friends again. Roger didn't say anything, however, which Benny seemed to take as encouragement. "You should convince him to start writing music again," he told Mimi. Still no answer. Finally, getting annoyed, he insinuated, "She can be __very__ persuasive."_

"_What is your problem?" Mimi demanded, finally reacting._

"_Please, relax," Angel entreated._

"_No, he's acting like a…prick," Mimi declared. What, of all the many, varied words she could use to describe Benny 'prick' is the best she could come up with?_

"_Look, we're all just a little tense after Maureen and Joanne's party," Angel said, holding up her hands placatingly. Speaking of, I actually think I saw Benny there. Figuring Maureen wouldn't hold a grudge given all that free publicity Benny inadvertently gave her. Besides, she's living the high life with Joanne. Or…was. Will she be moving out? She better not come to stay with us… "And Benny's probably still upset because of his cat."_

"_My dog," Benny corrected, looking appropriately upset. Please, he couldn't stand that thing._

"_My cat had a fall and I went through hell," Angel commiserated. Wait…so she remembered that she killed Benny's pet but not that it was a dog? Or was she trying to throw Benny off the trail?_

"_Yeah, it's like losing a-" Benny began. He peered up at Angel suspiciously. "How'd you know she __**fell**__?"_

_Angel had nothing, so she walked back over to Collins and Roger finally succeeded in leaving the room. As no one else seemed inclined to acknowledge Benny's existence and he REALLY didn't want us to hate him any more than we already do, he walked out the door._

_The minute he was gone, Collins and Angel burst into hysterical laughter._

"_Roger?" Mimi said softly, following Roger the minute Benny was gone and could no longer cause problems for them. Although, to be fair, all he said was that they knew each other and had dinner. Nothing really wrong with that. If it weren't for Benny and every girl Roger's ever dated's history together, Roger probably wouldn't even care. "Nothing happened," Mimi assured him. Well, that sounds good. Just leave it at that and let's all move on. "Benny and me, it's over." No, dear God, why?!?! "We had a thing once, but it was two years ago." Two years ago…wasn't she seventeen then? Was that even legal? At least it was before Benny's marriage…_

"_It doesn't matter," Roger lied quickly, hoping to avoid the details._

"_It was before I met you," Mimi offered weakly, reaching out to him._

"_I don't care," Roger insisted, running away._

As I left, I heard mildly depressing music starting up in the room Mimi still occupied. If she thought that could lure me back, she had another thing coming. I'm going to start having to introducing Benny to everyone I might want to date before I start anything with them just to make sure he hasn't already been with them, aren't I? I mean, I don't think he would actually do anything with them if he knew I was interested since he's married and our friendship is having enough issues anyway, but I really should have to in the first place! Why does this always happen?

"Without you, the ground thaws," Mimi's voice sings and suddenly there is an image of her, looking a lot like April did when she was messed up and in full-blown addict mode, buying drugs from The Man in the same bright, sunshiny park while kids played in the background. Does The Man have no shame?!?! "The rain falls. The grass grows." Um…okay, so I don't control nature. Is that what she's saying? Because I kind of already knew that.

"Without you, the seeds root." And now Mimi's in the Cat Scratch Club, smiling thinly as she accepts money and not really being bothered to move much. "The flowers bloom. The children play." Okay, seriously, she looks really ill. I'm kind of concerned.

"The stars gleam. The poets dream." Of course, when I go to checkup on her – and also to ask her what is with this long-ass song – I find her shaking, sitting on her bed, and about to shoot up. Seriously, as a recently recovered addict myself, I should not be here and I promptly turn around and leave, but not before giving her a disappointed look and shaking my head. "The eagles fly without you. The Earth turns. The sun burns." Okay, seriously where is she going with this? The world would get along fine without me? Is she trying to talk me into suicide or something? I'm kind of confused. "But I'd die without you." Oh. That's kind of sweet. And she put the syringe down! Sweet! Progress!

"Without you. The breeze warms. The girl smiles. The cloud moves." And now Mimi appears to be at Life Support. Why isn't she sitting with Collins and Angel? Especially since Angel seems to be her best friend? And why are all these people just fading away? Does that mean they die? I've never seen someone die of AIDS, but I'm pretty sure they actually die, not pull an Obi-Wan. This is so weird. And is it just me, or does Angel look a little unwell?

"Without you. The tides change. The boys run." Oh, and now Mimi is sitting on the edge of her bathtub, shaking and sweating. Guess she's serious about this whole quitting thing. I should go up and be supportive. Oh, but now we've switched to another Life Support Meeting. I guess Mimi's flashing back to draw strength to make it through withdrawal? People are still disappearing and Angel looks progressively worse. "The oceans crash. The crowds roar. The days soar. The babies cry without you." A little less talk about how unimportant I am would be nice, Mimi.

"The moon glows, the river flows. But I'd die…without you." That's better. But uh-oh. I'm seeing Angel and Collins on the subway together again, but they aren't happy and dancing this time. Now Collins is holding a weak and shaky Angel in his arms and looking heartbroken. Oh God, no, not Angel. All of our unresolved issues would come bubbling to the surface without her influence.

"The world revives," I officially make the song a duet, finally going upstairs, picking Mimi up and bringing her back to my couch.

"Colors renew," Mimi contributes.

"But I know blue, only blue, lonely blue," we sing together as I try and comfort Mimi and rack my brains for something supportive to say. Eventually giving up, I pull her into a hug instead.

"Within me, blue," Mimi says. "Without you." And now we're at the hospital and lo and behold, Angel is sick, after all. Mimi's painting Angels nails, Collins is lounging on the hospital bed with her and laughing, Maureen is pressing a kiss to Angel's forehead and giving her flowers, Mark and I are perched awkwardly on two chairs in a corner of the room…that sounds about right. And because Maureen can never just let anything be about someone else, she and Joanne exchange longing-filled looks over Angel's sickbed. Guess they still haven't gotten over their fight at the reception. So…did they get their almost-marriage annulled, then? "Without you, the hand gropes."

"The ear hears. The pulse beats." So what, she would survive without me after all? Is that some sort of threat? Because just a minute ago she said she'd die without me! Or maybe she's talking about Angel. She and Collins are the only ones at Angel's side now. Collins is stroking Angel's hair softly and Mimi is feeding him something. He looks really bad.

"Without you," I contribute, "the eyes gaze. The legs walk. The lungs breathe." And is that Mimi and The Man I see? No! She was doing so well! Why, Mimi, why? In my sorrow and indignation, I start a fight and grab Mimi's stash. She tries to deny it, but the truth is kind of clear to see. I can't BELIEVE she's giving up like that! It's hard enough to make The Man let you go without slipping like this!

"The mind churns, the heart yearns," I say and she echoes me a second later. Getting fed up, I throw her stash back at her and just walk away. "The tears dry without you." Mimi watches me go on the verge of tears, but she still tucks the powder into her coat, having made her choice.

"Life goes on, but I'm gone, cause I'd die without you." Mimi's crying as she puts on lipstick in the dressing room of the Cat Scratch Club, but nobody seems to notice. Nobody but _Benny_, that is, who comes up behind her and hugs her. He better only have platonic interests in mind, or so help me…

And just because there cannot possible be any hope left, Angel is dead.

"_It's right…that today's Halloween," Mimi said, standing up in front of the church. She looks a lot better than she did the last time I saw her and I must admit, I suspect this is due to Benny. He's always been good at comforting people when he needed to be. "It was Angel's favorite holiday." I kind of wonder why we don't have a priest here for the funeral or why we scheduled it for a holiday. Now I'll never be able to celebrate another Halloween without feeling hopelessly depressed._

"_I knew we hit it off the moment we met," Mimi's smile faded as she remembered the incident. "There was this skinhead that was harassing her…" I get skinheads don't like drag queens, but Angel was very, very convincing as a girl, so how could he even tell? "And she just walked right up to him and said, 'I'm more of a man than you'll ever be and more of a woman than you'll ever get.'" Mimi glanced quickly at the picture of Angel behind her then walked back to her seat without another word._

_Guess It's my turn. "And then there was this time he walked up to this group of tourists and they were petrified because a) they were obviously lost and b) had probably never spoken to a drag queen before in their lives. And he…she…" Dear God, I'm uncomfortable in front of a crowd. I mean, it wasn't so bad after Maureen's protest, but I was riding high from getting my footage on the news and a bit buzzed at the time. Now I'm eulogizing Angel and my difficulty knowing which gender to address her as is becoming more obvious by the second. And did I really just use a and b? Dear God, it sounds like I'm giving a presentation! And how do people keep realizing Angel's a drag queen? It wasn't that obvious! "Just offered to escort them out of Alphabet City and then let them take a picture with her and then said she'd help them find the Circle Line." I was there too, obviously, but I couldn't be bothered to help them. I did film the incident though, and I might still have the footage, depending on whether or not Roger's been drunk lately. And Angel's a saint, really. Ironic though that may be given the Catholic Church's position on gay people and – probably drag queens – but she was. Dog-killing tendencies aside, letting gawking tourists take a picture to show their friends back home how 'exotic' New York is and then giving them directions? Let's just canonize her now._

_Maureen, naturally, felt the need to go next. "So much more original than any of us." Apparently, she'd been practicing in her head and couldn't be bothered to start over from the beginning. "You'd find an old tablecloth on the street and make a dress…and then the next year, sure enough, they'd be mass producing them at the Gap." But wait…we only knew Angel for ten months. Is she saying that she recently found out that the Gap stole one of Angel's outfits? Those bastards! Maureen giggled a little and then turned serious. "You always said how lucky you were that we were all friends, but it was us, baby. We were the lucky ones." Seriously, we all love each other dearly, but we can't actually spend any prolonged period of time together without an attempted murder, so Angel's soothing presence was really a godsend._

_Collins apparently decided he was fine with only three people eulogizing Angel as he got up to hug Maureen and then approached Angel's coffin, music following him up. "Live in my house, I'll be your shelter, just pay me back with 1000 kisses." Oh…it's that adorable 'we're-together-now' song Angel and Collins were singing on Christmas all those months ago…it sounds much sadder when it's slower and not a duet anymore. "Be my lover…and I'll cover you. Yeah."_

_Roger's crying, Maureen's trying to look stoic but gave up and glanced at Joanne, who, though also crying, held her gaze for a moment before realizing that Angel's funeral REALLY wasn't the place for that and looked away. Mimi looked upset but dry-eyed. I leaned forward, feeling awkward, but not as awkward as Benny, who really didn't know Angel and was just there to support Mimi. He kept glancing off to the side, as if that would make this go any faster. It won't._

"_Open your door, I'll be your tenant. Don't got much baggage to lay at your feet." Since this is Angel's funeral, I'll ignore the crappy grammar for now. And the song is speeding up slightly as Collins smiles sadly at Angel's picture. Well, maybe he __didn't_ _have baggage, but now he sure as hell does. Or is he referring to the fact that – unlike everyone else we know – he doesn't actually feel the need to tell everyone all about it? In which case he still wouldn't have much to bother people with, but Angel's death is probably an exception. Especially since we love her, too. _

"_But sweet kisses I've got to spare. I'll be there and I'll cover you. I think they meant it when they said you can't buy love. Now I know you can rent it. A new lease you were, my love. On life. All my life…" He changed 'are' to 'were'! God, he sounds so close to tears that I just can't stand it and neither, it seems, can anyone else as we all rise and start accompanying him with an 'oooooooooooh'. Looking shocked to discover he wasn't alone with his grief, he turned to face us and continued, "I've longed to discover something as true as this is. Yeah…"_

"_So with a thousand sweet kisses!" Joanne belted out. _

"_Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes," the rest of the congregation feels the need to start with. I'm…not actually sure why, but at least they're doing something, right?_

"_If you're cold and you're lonely," Collins said._

"_I'll cover you," Joanne promised."With a thousand sweet kisses, I'll cover you."_

"_You've got one nickel only," Collins reminisced. _

"_With a thousand sweet kisses!" Apparently Joanne can't remember any other part of the song. Ah, well. At least she picked a good part._

"_When you're worn out and tired," Collins said._

"_I'll cover you!" Oh, and Joanne knows that part, too, I guess. Still, Angel had a lot more than two lines when she was singing it. Joanne's a lawyer, not an artist, though, so allowances have to be made. At least she's trying. "With a thousand sweet kisses."_

"_When your heart has expired!" Collins declaration was so heartrending that it temporarily brought the rest of the song to a halt. _

"_Oh, lover, I'll cover you. Oh, lover…" Everyone sang together._

"_I'll cover you…" Collins said softly._

"_Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes." Oh, now we're back to this again. I hope this is actually going to have a point, but I'm not optimistic. "Fine hundred twenty-five thousand seasons of love." Hm…is that point-worthy? I'm not sure. Minutes don't generally count as 'seasons', though…_

"_I'll cover you, oh," Collins finished._

_Silence. That was powerful. Even Benny got into it. Then again, I suppose he's been friends with us for too many years not to know to just go with the flow. Does this mean we're talking to him again?_

_After the ceremony was over, I quickly retreated to the cemetery to try and deal with my grief by myself._

"_How did I get here? How the hell? Pan left, close on the steeple of the church," I said bitterly, pantomiming a camera since I didn't actually have mine with me today. I know, shocking, right? I'm still setting the scene, though, so I'm probably really not entirely accepting of this fact._

"_How did I get here?" I demanded. "How the hell-? Christmas." Of course. "Christmas Eve last year…how could a night so frozen be so scalding hot? How can a morning this mild be so raw?" That's how we know this is reality, you see, because the weather doesn't match our moods. Of course, given that that first part happened at the end of DECEMBER, it really wasn't going to be warm no matter what happened. Unless the scene changed to the Southern Hemisphere. _

"_Why are entire years strew on the cutting room floor of memory when single frames from one magic night forever flicker in close-up on the 3D Imax of my mind…" Well, actually it was more like three or four days, but you know what I mean. And in case you've forgotten, I'm a filmmaker! "That's poetic," I mused, then realized I was turning Angel's tragic death into an objective filming endeavor. "That's pathetic."_

"_Why did Mimi knock on Roger's door and Collins choose that phone booth back where Angel set up his drums? Why did Maureen's equipment break down?" Thinking about it, though, those questions really aren't all that hard. Mimi wanted a light and thought Roger was cute so they could do drugs together. The phone booth was the closest one to our apartment so he could catch the keys I threw him and Maureen's equipment broke because she never takes care of it and Joanne had no idea what she was doing. "Why am I the witness?" Because I carry a camera around with me everyone and obsessively film everyone? "And when I capture it on film, will it mean that it's the end and I'm alone?"_

_There, angst dealt with – sort of – I can go off and deal with everyone else's problems._

Review, Please!


	19. Goodbye Love and What You Own

Chapter Nineteen: Goodbye Love and What You Own

Disclaimer: I do not own RENT.

We all placed roses on Angel's coffin then walked away, leaving Collins to stare forlornly at the tombstone for a few more minutes. After all, he sighed heavily which meant he either wanted to be left alone or wanted to have a heart-to-heart and all of us are either far too self-absorbed (or busy dealing with our latest drama, like Mark) to be bothered to stay and ask which.

"It's true you sold your guitar and bought…a car?" Mimi asked, unable to believe it. Frankly, I was having difficulty believing it to. I mean, granted I could always sell the car later and buy a new guitar, but still! That guitar and I have a history together! I used it to defend myself from my fangirls!

"It's true," I confirmed. "I'm leaving now for Santa Fe." Why Santa Fe? I don't know; I just wanted to get the hell out of Dodge and Collins song made the place sound rather appealing so I figured why not? Then, since Mimi had made an effort I decided I might as well try and keep the conversation rolling with a question of my own. "It's true you're with this yuppie scum?"

Benny looked somewhat annoyed. I wonder why because, really, that was probably the nicest way I could possibly describe him considering he's married and took up with my ex again who he dated back when she was still jailbait. AND he gate crashed Angel's funeral! The nerve of some people… "You said you'd never speak to him again." Wow, Mimi said that? Really? How very teenage girl-ish of her. Then again, she IS nineteen, so...I suppose it's really stranger that Benny took that seriously.

"Not now," Mimi said absently. I'm leaving, after all, so this is her last chance to try and make me out to be the bad guy when SHE'S the one who chose heroin and a married man over me.

Maureen, who also hates being told what to do under any circumstances, jumped to Mimi's defense. "Who said that you have any say in who she says things to at all?"

"Yeah," I agreed vaguely, shooting a backwards glance at Mimi who, for some reason, ran to my other side and pushed Joanne out of the way. Um…why? If Joanne's bi and going to go after any guy in our group, it would probably be Mark as they could commiserate over what a crappy monogamist Maureen is.

This, naturally, rankled Joanne who clearly saw it as Maureen indirectly attacking her for trying to curb Maureen's philandering tendencies. "Who said that you should stick your nose in other people-?" she began.

"Who said I was talking to you?" Maureen shot back, even though she totally was. Great, now they weren't even pretending that they weren't making this about them. Does everyone have to do this here? Couldn't they at least wait before we left Angel's FUNERAL to start bitching at each other?

"We used to have this fight each night," Joanne explained to a sympathetic-looking Mimi. Oh dear God, she is NOT going to start comparing _my_ perfectly reasonable behavior to Maureen's insanity, is she? And the music really is a bit much, given the circumstances. They're going to attract Collins' attention and he is going to be _pissed_.

"Calm down," Mark entreated, no doubt having similar concerns.

"She'd never admit I existed," Joanne continued, ignoring Mark. So what else is new?

"Everyone please," Mark begged. He really should speak louder to be heard over the angry music. Has he learned nothing from us all these years? Whatever, I'm out of here.

"He was the same way," Mimi's angry words halted me in my tracks. "He was always run away, hit the road, don't commit, you're full of shit!" Oh, like I'M the only one with commitment issues here. Besides, if she thinks mine are bad, she **clearly** hasn't spent enough time with Benny.

"Mimi," Benny said, sounding mildly reproving. Wow, when even Benny realizes that Now Is Not The Time, you know that it really isn't.

"She's in denial," Joanne accused.

"He's in denial," Mimi echoed, ignoring the fact that Joanne's case for mistreatment was far stronger that her own.

"Come on guys," Mark pleaded ineffectually.

"Didn't give an inch when I gave a mile," Joanne sang passionately at Maureen's back.

"I gave a mile," Mimi claimed. Oh, that's rich. That's it; I simply cannot keep silent anymore and let her malign me like this!

"Gave a mile to who?" I shot back. Me, Benny, or herself?

Mark took advantage of the dramatic silence to try again, "Come on guys, chill!" Chill? He really thinks that will work? That's almost cute.

"I'd be happy to DIE for a taste of what Angel had," Joanne and Mimi dueted, gesturing at Collins who finally noticed our antics and was coming over to tell us off. "Someone to live for, unafraid to say 'I love you.'" That they're making light of Angel's death at _her own funeral_ is just so…have they no shame?!?!

Somewhat pissed, I finally move towards her. "All your words are nice Mimi, but love's not a three-way street. You'll never share real love until you love yourself; I should know." And that means no Benny and NO DRUGS. Seriously, I defy you to find me a junkie who doesn't have major self-worth issues because God knows I've never met one.

Collins slammed me into a tree when he finally reached us. Oh, that's fair: Mimi, Maureen, and Joanne just had to make this all about them and yet _I'm_ the one he knocked into a tree? Talk about sexism… "You all said you'd be cool today, so please for my sake…" Collins trailed off. "I can't believe he's gone. I can't believe you're going. I can't believe this family must die." Wait, so Angel's a guy again now? I'm kind of confused. Not nearly as much as Mark is, I'm sure, but confused nonetheless. And he can't talk about abandonment! He's moving to Miami! "Angel helped us believe in love. I can't believe you disagree."

"I can't believe this is…goodbye," the seven of us said as one. Since when is Benny part of the same 'family' as Joanne? We've been on the outs with him since before we even met Joanne! Although, to be fair, I suppose he hasn't bothered us about the rent since Mark gave him that three grand, and I'm sure it's not THAT cheap…no, what am I doing? No being fair to Benny! It is not the emo way.

Maureen and Joanne started looking longingly at each other. Ten to one they'll use this as an opportunity to get back together. Mimi takes a hesitant step towards me, but she looks like she might keel over any day now, so I'm going with my original plan of going to Santa Fe. Plus she still shows no sign of trying to give up heroin again and is still with Benny.

_After Roger stormed off and Maureen and Joanne left to 'reunite', Mimi, Collins, Benny, and I were left standing around awkwardly until we were approached by the priest. Where the hell was he during the actually ceremony?_

"_Excuse me," the priest said politely. "Bu there's the matter of-"_

"_Right, right, right, I got it," Benny said immediately, walking off to the side with the priest. Wow, that's generous of him. God knows there's no way WE could pay the undertaker and since Joanne left…_

"_Must be nice to have money," Collins said wistfully, walking over to sit by Mimi. He's got Angel's drumsticks in his hands. I thought he was going to put them in the coffin. Ah,well._

"_No shit," Benny, Mimi, and I deadpan._

"_You owe me a beer," Collins told Mimi._

"_I'll give you a cigarette," she compromises, taking one for herself and then handing one to him._

"_Hey," Collins addresses Benny as the latter finishes paying and the priest wanders off to go do priestly things. He gives Benny a big hug. Aw…all is forgiven. "I think it's only fair to tell you, though, that you just paid for the funeral of the…person…that killed your dog." I guess Collins is having some pronoun issues too now. Ha! It's not just me!_

"_Ah," Benny said, staring at the ground. "I know."  
_

"_You knew?" Collins asks incredulously. I can understand his surprise. We've been kind of…estranged from Benny for the last ten months or so. _

"_Yeah," Benny confirmed. "I always __**hated**__ that dog." We all burst into laughter at that. So…even though Angel was a dog-killer, it was okay because the dog was annoying as hell? Okay then. "Come on," Benny said with a smile. "Let's go get drunk."_

"_Yes please," Mimi said, standing up._

"_Oh no, I-I can't do that," I stammered my excuses. Roger would kill me._

"_Come on man," Collins said, putting his arm around me._

_Fine…Force me to have fun…_

_When I returned, slightly drunk, I found Roger dressed all in black and packing, accompanied by appropriately angsty music. Oh joy…I am both too drunk and yet not drunk enough for this._

"_I hear there are great restaurants out west," I said, forcing a smile. Granted, I only heard it from Collins in his Santa Fe song, but whatever. I'm sure he knows what he's talking about, having probably lived there at some point._

"_Some of the best," Roger said absently. "How could she?"_

_Do we HAVE to have this conversation? Fine, whatever. I hope he remembers he started this though, because it's probably going to lead to a fight. "How could YOU let her go?"_

"_You just don't know," Roger claims, sounding very much like an emo teenager whining that no one understands them. And also not even making the slightest effort to explain. "How could we lose Angel?"_

"_Maybe you'll see why when you stop escaping your pain! At least now if you try, Angel's death won't be in vain," I cried. After all, Angel's presence allowed us to all hang out while not addressing our various issues and now that she's gone, they are all coming to the surface so if we deal with them maybe something positive can come from this whole shitty situation._

"_His death is in vain!" Roger disagreed, brushing past me dramatically. Wait…so Angel's a guy now? Dear God I'm confused! I spent all this time getting used to Angel being a girl and now that she's dead she's a he? Is a little consistency too much to ask for?  
_

"_Are you insane?" I demand, following Roger into the next room. "There's so much to care about, there's me and Mimi!" And…a whole bunch of other people too that I can't be bothered to list. We're the most important two anyway, the best friend and the ex-girlfriend who wants to get back together with him and vice versa._

_Roger shook his head. "Mimi's got her baggage too."_

"_So do you," I said before realizing that by 'too' he was probably acknowledging his own baggage. And what about me?_

"_Who are you to tell me what I know? What to do?" Roger demanded._

_Who does he think? "A friend." Besides, I always do that because otherwise Roger would just sit at home and sulk all day._

"_But who, Mark, are you?" Roger asks. That's kind of strange, since he put the answer to his question in his question. Mark. Or is he going to get all existential on me now? " 'Mark has got his work,' they say, 'Mark lives for his work. And Mark's in love with his work. Mark hides in his work.'" That's not true, I'm just still hung-up on Maureen. I might have actually made some progress on that if it weren't for the fact she's always around, consistently having problems with her new girlfriend, and I always have to deal with everyone else's issues. Maybe now that everyone's leaving I'll get a chance to start moving on. Wait, hiding?_

"_From what?" I challenge. _

_Roger has apparently been thinking long and hard on this as he's got an answer ready for me immediately. "From facing your failure, facing your loneliness facing the fact you live a lie. Yes you live a lie!" he assured me. Okay, so maybe I'm kind of failing on the 'holding us all together' front, but to be fair these people have issues up to their eyeballs and which one of us has the steady employment? Besides, I wouldn't be lonely if everyone weren't dying or leaving! "Tell you why: You're always preaching not to be numb when that's how you thrive. You pretend to create and observe when you really detach from feeling alive." Hey, I'm just trying to be objective!_

"_Perhaps it's because I'm the one of us to survive!" I burst out._

_Roger, not appreciating the reminder that he, Mimi, and Collins are drying, taunts, "Poor baby."_

_I can't focus on my own issues, though; I'll have time for that when Roger's gone. I have to try and help him realize what a mistake he's making and how much he'll regret this. "Mimi still loves you, are you really jealous?" Just because Mimi's with Benny now…they're probably not even sleeping together seeing as how she has AIDS and Benny seems to be trying to make amends with us. "Or afraid that Mimi's weak?"_

"_Mimi did look pale," Roger admitted softly, unable to meet my eyes._

"_Mimi's gotten thin; Mimi's running out of time and you're running out the door!" I accuse._

"_No more!" Roger insists. "I've got to go," he says, putting on his jacket._

"_Hey!" I stop him as he's about to leave. "For someone who's always been let down, who's heading out of town?"_

"_For someone who longs for a community of his own, who's with his camera, alone?" Roger goes right for the throat. He shakes his head and sighs. "I'll call," he promises. I doubt it. "I hate the fall." With that, he opens the door and sees Mimi standing outside, leaning against a wall. "You heard?"_

"_Every word," Mimi confirms, crossing her arms. Wow, she looks a lot worse than she did just a few hours ago. No wonder Roger's freaking out. His last girlfriend killed herself and now this one's wasting away. They just stare at each other for a minute before Roger heads for the stairs. "You don't want baggage without lifetime guarantees," Mimi decides, halting Roger in his tracks. "You don't want to watch me die, I just came to say goodbye love. Goodbye love, just came to say goodbye love, goodbye." Roger's turned around to stare at her by this point. "Goodbye love, goodbye love. Just came to say goodbye love, goodbye love. Goodbye love, goodbye…"_

_At some point, Roger forced himself to start moving again and is slowly descending the stairs. "Glory, one blaze of glory. I have to find…"_

_As Roger leaves the building, he encounters Benny, who is on his way in. They also having a staring contest, but Benny quickly looks away and runs up to see if Mimi's okay. He puts his hand on her back comfortingly, but she brushes him off._

"_Please don't touch me understand I'm scared, I need to go away," Mimi says vaguely as she tries to flee towards the safety of her apartment._

"_I know a place, a clinic," I volunteer. They managed to help Roger, after all. _

"_A rehab?" Benny asks, surprised._

_Mimi stops. "Maybe, could you-?" she asks hopefully._

"_I'll pay," Benny promises. Wow, he paid for Angel's funeral, the bar tab for four, AND Mimi's rehab in one day! That's it, we are officially friends again. If Roger doesn't like it, he can come back to New York and complain about it in person._

_Of course, Mimi doesn't bother thanking him, she just runs back to her apartment. "Goodbye love, goodbye love, just came to say, goodbye love, goodbye. Just came to say goodbye love, goodbye! Hello…disease…"_

_Yeah, that girl REALLY needs some help._

Wow, it's almost depressing just how little traffic there is here in New Mexico. It's probably for the best, though, as my driving skills aren't exactly the greatest after living in New York and not having driven since…God, when did I get my license? 17?

"Don't breathe too deep, don't think all day," Mark's voice suddenly rang out. The hell? Is this going to be happening every time he decides to start a musical number, because I was kind of hoping to take a break from that by heading all the way across the country. You'd think he'd take a hint…damn you Benny and your glowing green rocks of destroying my peace!

"Dive into work. Drive the other way." Except…the image of Mark that's suddenly swimming in my head and making me grateful there are no other cars on the road for me to accidentally crash into while I'm distracted by this shows Mark on a bike. You RIDE bikes, Mark, you don't drive them. Easy mistake to make. "That drip of hurt, that pint of shame…goes away just play the game." Wow, Mark looks really angry as he's preparing to go film something for his Buzzline job. You'd almost think he hates it or something. Wait a second…he's not giving me advice on how to become a sellout, does he? Because it kind of sounds like it…crap, I totally left Mark alone in New York with no one to talk to but the blissfully happy reunited Maureen and Joanne or Benny, didn't I? Crap…Note to self, make sure to call periodically to make sure best friend does not go off deep end like ex-landlord.

"You're living in America, at the end of the millennium." I…kind of already knew that. Not really a big revelation. I'm actually kind of insulted he thinks I need to be reminded what decade and what country I'm in. Or perhaps I should be more worried he thinks HE needs to be reminded? Note to self: find pay phone. Soon. Maybe there's one at this car dealership I'm totally ditching my car for a guitar at? "You're living in America, leave your conscience at the tone." Seriously, how bad IS his job? Benny must really suck at allaying his fears. Not that I'm surprised, since Benny is, quite frankly, evil. God, not seeing him is making it really hard to hate him… And that had better not be his new answering machine message! "SPEAK!" is a work of brilliance!

"And when you're living in America, at the end of the millennium." Just in case, you know, you didn't get it the first two times. "You're what you own." Speaking of, I just bought a shiny red guitar! And it's cheaper than my car was! Yay! Since I'm currently feeling thrilled, I might as well throw Mark a bone and let him know I'm still alive.

"The filmmaker cannot see," I observe cryptically as Mark tries to edit together his footage for his movie. Wow, he makes a lot of progress without me around to periodically destroy his footage. But wait…what's his excuse for not finishing it when I was in rehab for six months?

"And the songwriter cannot hear," Mark shot back. Whoops, he seemed to take that personally or something. I REALLY should call… Interesting side note: did you know that if you stand on a street corner with your guitar case open on the ground and holding a guitar, people will throw money in as they walk by regardless of whether or not you're actually playing or just tanning? Santa Fe is awesome!

"Yet I see Mimi everywhere," I muse. And she never really does anything, just looks at me. Because she's not involved with Mark and my song, I'm a bit concerned I may be hallucinating. It's probably because I'm not used to so much sun…

"Angel's voice is in my ear," Mark confides. Okay, seeing ex-girlfriends that live halfway across the country is one thing. Hearing your dead friend's voice in your head is just crazy.

"Just tighten those shoulders," I advised Mark. Just ignore it and hope no one will commit you. After all, if you go crazy, who will deal with all of our various issues?

"Just clench your jaw till you frown," Mark adds, completely misunderstanding me.

"Just don't let go!" I beg him. Seriously, sanity is your friend. Maybe not my friend or our other friends' friend, but yours.

"Or you may drown. You're living in America at the end of the millennium," Mark and I chorus. And look! I've found scenery! New Mexico has scenery! Will wonders never cease? I wish I had a camera. Tragically, I felt bringing one would make me feel like Mark, so I'll just have to wonder around here for awhile hoping I'll remember it. "You're living in America where it's like the Twilight Zone." Honestly, me out of the apartment and exploring the world and Mark having a job and (possibly) paying rent like a nice, boring, productive member of society?

"And when you're living in America at the end of the millennium, you're what you own," Mark and I continue. Normally it's 'you are what you eat', but that's always seemed kind of strange. I mean, unless you were into cannibalism, I don't even see how that could possibly be considered accurate at all. "So I own not a notion, I escape and ape content. I don't own emotion I rent!" And I don't pay it, either.

"What was it about that night?" Mark begins and I echo. Of course, That Night will forever mean Christmas Eve of last year so it's not like we even need to elaborate at all. "Connection in an isolating age!" Seriously, it is REALLY weird how many things we got done over the holidays then. This year's Christmas will undoubtedly fail to live up to the hype. I will, however, be spending it with Mark as I've decided I've seen enough scenery so I might as well head home. I would trade my guitar in for a car again, but my guitar is nice and shiny and I really can't be bothered to make the long drive, so I'm going on a cross-country bus trip!

"For once the shadows gave way to light," Mark started while I was distracted since I'm totally finally getting around to writing my song! If I hurry, I should get it done this year. Anyway, I echo what he said again and with any luck he won't realize it wasn't intentional. "For once I didn't disengage…" Not for lack of trying, mind you. And how does 'Your Eyes' sound for a title?

"Angel, I hear you, I hear it, I see it," Mark says, running up to the roof. I'm still a bit concerned that he's talking to dead people and they're answering, but now that I'm back I can hopefully deal with it. "I see it my film. Alexi, Mark. Call me a hypocrite…I need to finish my own film. I quit!" Wait, so is he really quitting? Why can't he do both at the same time? I'm so confused…I'll need to talk to him about that. At least he stopped being a sellout, though. Maybe what he said would have made more sense if I weren't having my own singing epiphany at the time.

"Mimi, I see you. I hear it, I hear it, I hear it, my song!" Yay! We're finally accomplishing things! Too bad it took Angel dying for us to actually get around to finishing our lifelong projects. "One song glory…" Hey, wasn't that a song I wrote too? So I actually accomplished my goal months ago? Damn it, why didn't anyone tell me? Oh right, they weren't there… Ah well. Now I've got TWO songs and that's more than I ever thought I'd accomplish. "Mimi, your eyes…" I really should talk to her, it's been months.

"We're dying in America at the end of the millennium," the two of us sing in tandem. Well, I am, at any rate. Unless Mark's come down with radiation poisoning or something…And way for him to totally not notice I'm within seeing distance of him now. "We're dying in America to come into our own. And when you're dying in America." Mark turned around and saw me and even though he looked surprised – I never did get around to calling – we both made the silent decision to finish our song before reuniting properly. That's dedication.

"At the end of the millennium…you're not alone. I'm not alone. I'm not alone!" Wow, that's quite an epiphany. Of course, Mark will be alone if I ever get around to acting like I have AIDS but for now I can't be bothered, so we're good.

Ah! Mark just glomped me! Yeah, REALLY should have called first…

Review Please!


	20. Your Eyes and Finale

Chapter Twenty: Your Eyes and Finale

Disclaimer: I do not own RENT.

Note: Finally finished my first lengthy story! Yay!

When we got back down to the apartment after our manly reuniting scene, the phone rang. Since we still don't actually believe in answering the phone, we just let the answering machine get it. And good thing, too, as it was Benny. He sounded…almost sad, like he did when he told us we only had a few hours to stop Maureen's protest. Strange.

"SPEAK!" Ah, good thing Mark didn't change that. It's classic.

"Hey guys, it's Benny. Look, I was wondering if you've seen Mimi." Wait…guys? How the hell did he know I was back? Stupid stalker…and isn't she HIS kind-of girlfriend? "I haven't seen her in a couple of weeks." How is this our business? "She dropped out of rehab and I'm afraid that she may have started using again." Wait…she was in rehab? Since when? Why did nobody tell me? Just because I didn't call and they had no real way of reaching me is no excuse to keep me in the dark about these things! Still, the information is coming from Benny and God knows I can't trust him, so I'd better go check and see if she's really gone. "If you find anything, let me know. I just want to know if she's alright."

I went down to her apartment and peered through the window. No sign of Mimi, so I went inside to further investigate. Nope, she's still not here. I guess Benny's been stalking her, too. Of course, he's clearly not doing a very good job if he managed to lose her, but…

"…it's Maureen," Maureen was apparently also helping us look. "Still no sign of Mimi. Joanne and I printed up some fliers. I'll call back if we hear anything." Oh, so they DID get back together after all? Nobody tells me anything! God!

"Hey, it's Collins. Just checking in. You heard from Mimi?" No, Collins, we haven't. And don't think I've forgiven you for neglecting to come visit when you moved to the same town I did! Honestly, Santa Fe is NOT that big!

"Roger, I spoke to the manager of the Cat Scratch Club," Joanne announced. That place has a manager? "She hasn't show up for work in a couple of weeks." And she still has a job? Wow, she must be REALLY talented. "She hasn't picked up her AZT in awhile." Possibly because since she also stopped picking up her paycheck, she can't afford it. "Couple of weeks. I'm really starting to get worried. It's getting cold out there."

"Roger, are you there?" Okay, now why in the world is Mark calling me? He lives here! "Look, I just went to the police station and filed a missing-persons report." Oh, good idea! Why didn't we think of that? Oh, right, because we don't trust cops after they started that riot at Maureen's protest."I spoke to a friend of Mimi's who said she saw her three weeks ago." That's really not helpful **at all**, but thanks for playing, Mark. "She said she's been living on the street." Why the hell would she do that when she has a nice, comfortable apartment she doesn't actually have to pay for? See, this is why I stopped being a junkie: drugs make you crazy.

"It's Collins again," I should be heading home, like, right around Christmas," Collins announced. Is it December already? Man, time sure flies when your friends all leave in-depth answering machine. messages at the SAME TIME. Seriously, isn't the answering machine supposed to cut you off at three or four minutes? "It's too cold out there. How can she survive?" Well thank you for your daring bit of optimism, Collins. That's JUST what I needed to hear right now.

You know what else I really don't need right now? A meeting with Benny. Either way, I kind of promised him I'm meet him at the Life Café to discuss the search for Mimi. I hope he doesn't expect me to actually pay for anything I may order there.

"Man," Benny greeted me.

"Thanks for meeting me," I managed to say, almost-sincere. Apparently Mark and Benny were friends again and he was helping the search for Mimi after paying for her rehab, so I will try and be polite if it kills him.

"Yeah," Benny said quietly, staring at his drink.

I got a waiter's attention and indicated I wanted whatever Benny had ordered. Please be alcohol, please be alcohol… "Have you seen her?" I demanded.

Benny just shook his head. Well, that was a waste of time. I should probably get going. On the other hand, it wouldn't do to leave without drinking whatever I ordered that Benny's totally going to pay for. Him paying for our things is good for him, I think. "No, I haven't seen her for a couple weeks." And he's only concerned NOW? "She was doing good for awhile, though," he said, sounding almost defensive as if he could tell that I thought he had been ridiculously negligent. "She was in rehab for a bit. Then she started using again and lost her job." Oh, so she did lose it after all? Perhaps that's why she didn't show up to work. Stupid manager, could've mentioned that. And she didn't lose her job while she was in rehab? What, did the strippers have a union and she took sick leave or something? And since her being on drugs wasn't a problem before, why would it be now? Because her angsting was depressing the patrons?

Benny looked incredibly unsure all of a sudden and I was nearly positive I wouldn't want to hear what he had to say next. "Listen, I just wanted to be there for her," he claimed, turning to me. Oh look, I was right. "As a friend, that's it. She still loves you. " Stupid Benny and his stupid making me feel guilty for actually proving to be a good person in the end…

"_December 24, 1990, 10 pm, Easter Standard Time," I announced, still kind of in shock I managed to keep this whole film thing going for a full year now. "I can't believe a year went by so fast." Just like last year, Roger's messing with his guitar, though it is better tuned this year, but unlike last year, Roger's absence means I actually have footage to fiddle with._

_The phone rings once then goes to the answering machine. "SPEAK!" You know, I think part of the reason we never manage to answer it personally is because there's only __one ring__**.**__ Seriously, unless we were standing RIGHT THERE, how could we possibly get to it in time. _

"_Hey, it's me, throw down the key," Collins said. How is it that he only feels we can identify him through voice alone about half the time and how does saying 'it's me' help at all if we can't identify him already? He is the only one who ever just orders us to do that, though._

"_Hey, look who's home," I remark to Roger, sounding surprised in spite of the fact he's called us once every four hours or so since leaving Santa Fe. "Hey Collins," I holler down to him. "Don't get your ass kicked this time."_

_Collins just gives me a Look and heads to the door. Seriously, how the hell did he managed to get mugged here last year? Sure it's not the __**safest**__ neighborhood, but _I_ don't even get mugged here. Perhaps it's the camera that scares them away? Nothing says 'jail time' more than getting your crime documented like that. "Hey!" Collins said cheerfully as he entered the apartment. "Merry Christmas!"_

"_Merry Christmas," I respond, trying to figure out how he managed to get all the way up to our apartment in roughly five seconds. "Welcome back."_

"_Come here," Collins orders, giving me a hug. "Take your key." Why is it in his mouth? He can't possibly have unlocked the door with it like that. Why couldn't he just put it in his pocket or with his stuff? "Hey, man," he greeted Roger, who was a lot more sociable this year that he was last._

"_Hello, Thomas," Roger greeted formally before allowing himself to be pulled into a hug as well. "Merry Christmas."_

"_Hey, any word on Mimi?" Collins asked as if I wouldn't have told him one of the five thousand times he called if there was._

_Roger winced. "No."_

_Fortunately, Collins a two-second attention span, so we could just leave it at that. "You got the projector – " Collins stopped, unable to believe it. "You finished your movie?!?!"_

"_I did," I announced proudly. And it's only fifteen years in the making._

"_Well, I wanna see it," Collins informed me giddily._

"_Okay," I shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant._

"_And I thought you guys could use this to get some heat up in here," Collins said, pulling out a large wad of cash. He thinks we pay for heating, isn't that cute? He really has been gone for too long…_

"_You shouldn't have done that," I insisted, fully intending on taking the money anyone._

"_Thank you," Roger said, planning the same thing. Now, for a rousing game of 'How Did Collins Get This Much Money, Was It Legal, And If We Accept It Are We Accomplices?' "Tutoring again?" Roger ventured._

"_Nope," Collins denied._

"_Back at NYU?" I guessed. He was in such a hurry to leave town after Angel's death that he didn't even bother to get fired; he just quit._

"_Negative," Collins also felt the need to have a different response for every guess, even if they were all variations on the theme of 'no.'_

_Knowing that this could very well go on all night as Roger and I simply lack the imagination to figure out what he could possibly have done and Roger would never willingly lose to me, I quit the game with a , "Then how'd you get all this?"_

"_I rewired the ATM at the Food Emporium. Now all you need is the code," Collins answered smugly. Wow. Just…wow. How in the world did he manage to have enough time alone with the ATM in order to manage that? And this would most definitely make us accomplices. Still, free money…_

"_The code? What code?" I asked eagerly._

"_A-N-G-E-L," Collins replied with a smile. Of course, what else? And given Angel's puppy-killing tendencies, no doubt she would approve. "Cheers." With that, we all downed some nice, Christmas-time alcohol. "Merry Christmas."_

_Suddenly, Maureen's panic-stricken voice rang out. "Mark? Roger? Anyone? Help!" Highly concerned, we all ran towards the window to see what was the matter. Maureen appeared to be fine, but Joanne was holding a dead-looking Mimi. Oh, that's not good… "We can't get her up the stairs!" Maureen explained. I doubt they even tried. "Hurry up, please!" Hey, it's not like we're even dawdling, we're just still getting the situation explained, is all._

"_Mimi," Roger said softly, before bolting for the stairs. Collins and I followed him and, what do you know, we managed the trip in about five seconds. What, do the stairs freeze time or something? _

"_She's been living on the street," Joanne explained. Uh, yeah. We kind of already knew that, but thanks for playing. "We found her in the park. She wanted to come here?" Then why didn't she? You know, before she started freezing to death and whatnot. And did she really want to come to our apartment or her own? Because I just don't see how she could have possibly known that Roger was even back in town._

_After another five-second stair trip, Collins and Roger – who had been supporting Mimi's weight between them, the lightweights – started looking around for somewhere to place her._

"_No room on the couch," Joanne said, sounding like it was the end of the world._

"_Just clear off the table; we'll put her there," I said vaguely. Although, we could probably just clear off the __**couch**__ and get the same results, but…no time to second-guess yourself in a crisis situation. Still, Maureen and Joanne wouldn't need to run all over the place getting pillows and a blanket if they'd just use the already cushioned couch._

"_Roger," Mimi said weakly, apparently conscious again. "You're back." So she didn't know. Then why in the world did she want to be here?_

"_I'm back," Roger agreed fervently. "I'm back, baby."_

"_Rog," Collins said, handing Roger his coat to give to Mimi. Shouldn't ROGER be giving up his coat to Mimi? I mean, I'm just saying._

Oh God, Oh God…what do you do in a situation like this? Mimi's so cold…That's it! "We need some heat," I announced.

"Okay, I'll buy some wood and food," Mark announced. Why don't we actually ever have any food on hand? And it's a good thing Collins just handed us all hat money or we couldn't even manage that.

"It's too late for that, man," Collins protested. "I'm calling 911." On Christmas? Good luck getting through. He just doesn't want us to spend any of his money. Cheapskate.

"Roger?" Mimi sounded confused.

"I'm right here, I'm right here, it's okay," I promised her. "I'm here. We got you. We got you."

Mimi, delirious as she was, apparently decided that singing was the best thing for her to do as she was kind of dying. "I should tell you, I should tell you." It's great she's advocating honesty for once (I'm still kind of peeved she wanted to sleep with me before she knew I had AIDS and wasn't planning on telling me about her HIV-Positive status), but is now really the time?

Nevertheless, it's best to humor dying people. Oh God, Mimi's dying. I think I'm going to cry. "I should tell you, I should tell you."

"I should tell you Benny wasn't any-" Mimi was so weak she couldn't even finish the sentence but she was that desperate to make me understand that they weren't really a couple. Way to make me feel like crap there, Mimi.

"Sh. I know," I admitted reluctantly. Fine, you know what, fine. We're friends again. Is everyone happy now? "I should tell you why I left. It wasn't cause I didn't-"

"I know," Mimi interrupted. That was kind of rude. I mean, yeah, I interrupted her and all, but that was because she needs to save her strength. On the other hand, I'm probably one of the healthiest dying people around thanks to Mark's obsessive mother-henning. "I should tell you."

"I should tell you," I echoed.

"I should tell you…I….love…you…" with that Mimi started a huge coughing fit. Wow, those were some great last words, but she does not get to give up me that easily! Especially not after I finally wrote my song for her! Don't faint on me yet!

"Who do you think you are?" I demanded. It took nearly the whole bus ride, too! "Leaving me alone with my guitar." And, of course, all my various friends who are just awkwardly watching us from the other side of the apartment. And did Collins ever actually get around to calling 911? "Hold on, there's something you should hear. It isn't much, but it took all year." Or roughly two hours, whichever. The rest of the year was spent procrastinating. And no, it is not in any way selfish of me to tell Mimi not to die until she heard my new song because I'd like her opinion on it. Not even slightly.

Maureen looked up at the sound of music playing but for once realized that now REALLY wasn't the time. Mark just looked awkward, as he always does when bad things happen, and Collins looked down, no doubt having flashbacks. Joanne…well, she just looked like a normal person watching one of her friends dying would look, I guess.

"Your eyes as we said our goodbyes, can't get them out of my mind and I find, I can't hide," I begin. "From your eyes. The ones that took me by surprise. The night you came into my life. Where there's moonlight, I see your eyes." That's not obsessive at all, nope. "How'd I let you slip away when I'm longing so to hold you?" Although I AM kind of holding her now. And I suspect the answer has something to do with me running off to Santa Fe and refusing to speak to her. In fact, we were speaking so little that we never really even bothered to break up, did we?

"Now I'd die for one more day," I declared dramatically. Of course, if I died and she were dead, I could just be with her then. "Cause there's something I should have told you. Yes there's something I should have told you when I looked into your eyes." Of course, I'm talking to her now and looking into her eyes, so I suppose I could just do it now, but where's the drama in that? "Why does distance make us wise?" Now's really probably not the time to be pondering philosophical questions like that.

"You were the song all along." Which explains why I could never write it until I met her. "And before the song dies…" I just love extended metaphors. "I should tell you, I should tell you, I have ALWAYS loved you. You can see it in my eyes." Which is good, because I'm not sure if I ever actually bothered to come out and say it. She stopped moving, that's not good. I pull her into my arms. "Mimi!" And now Mimi appears to be dead. That's just…that's not…she can't be. I don't…

After what seemed like forever, I saw movement in the corner of my eye. Mimi's finger was twitching. Why is it that whenever someone is supposedly dead and their hand falls out dramatically and limply to prove it, their finger is the first thing to move to let us know that's not the case? "Mimi!" I exclaim. Everyone else, who had on very sad faces, looked up at this, eyes wide.

Mimi, for her part, coughed a few times, then sat up, looking disoriented but a good deal stronger than she did a minute ago. So…dying is good for you, I guess? "I was heading towards this warm, white light," Mimi explained to everyone, who had gathered around her, looking solemn. "And I swear…Angel was there! And she looked good." Mimi placed her hand on Collins, who started laughing, happy that Angel had helped Mimi to return. "She said: 'turn around girlfriend, and listen to that boy's song.'" Yes! The power of love strikes again!

Of course, I really didn't know how to actually respond to the fact that Mimi had basically said she came back from the dead for me, so I settled with a nice, concerned, "You're drenched."

"Her fever's breaking," Maureen announced, putting her hand on Mimi's forehead.

"There is no future, there is no past," Mark randomly decided to remark. Yeah, he's REALLY not good with tense situations.

"Thank God this moment's not the last," I said, feeling slightly giddy.

"There's only us, there's only this," Mimi and I decide, ignoring everyone else's presence yet again. Fortunately, they don't seem to mind and Mark is probably used to it by now. "Forget regret or life is yours to miss."

"No other road, no other way," other people feel the urge to join in. "No day but today."

Mark, naturally, chose then as the perfect time to showcase his new film seeing as how none of us were paying the slightest bit of attention.

"I can't control," the girls started singing. "My destiny. I trust my soul. My only goal is just to be. Without you the hand gropes, the ear hears, the pulse beats. Life goes on but I'm gone cause I'd die without you. I'd die without you. I'd die without you, I'd die without you, I'd die without you. No day but today!"

"Will I lose my dignity?" Collins, Mark, and I chimed in. "Will someone care? Will I wake tomorrow. There's only now. There's only here. Give in to love or live in fear. No other path, no other way, no day but today. No day but today. No day but today. No day but today, no day but today, no day but today. No day but today!"

This leaves me with just one question: why the hell were we just recapping all the various inspirational songs we've gone through over the last year?!?!

Review Please!


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